Falling for Lucy – Part 2

Lucy stood in front of the mirror at her aunt’s house, the early morning Mediterranean sun streaming in through the window fell on her naked skin. She had been planning to go for a swim in a pool not far from the house for three days now but hadn’t worked up the confidence to go out in just a bikini even though probably no one would see her. Her aunt, a devout hippy now in her fifties, was determined that she would have no chemicals in the house and had given her some olive oil as an alternative to sunscreen. Lucy now stood looking at herself in front of the mirror, with the olive oil in one hand. She thought, what the hell, I’ll try anything once. As she spread the fragrant oil onto her skin she soon forgot her anxieties about her body and instead enjoyed the sensation of her slippery fingers caressing first her shoulders but then also her round, soft breasts. She began to enjoy the feminine curves of her young body and the way her skin glistened with droplets of the oil but then she suddenly thought of Chris, the boy she ran away from and the reason she was now staying with her aunt and uncle and their hippy friends at their villa in the South of France. She remembered Chris and the pain he had caused her but she couldn’t help also remembering being with him. As her oily hands continued their journey across her body she began to imagine, even though she knew it would later make her long for him more, that her hands were his hands. She closed her eyes and her mind’s eye filled with images of her and him when they were together. She remembered the gentle, boyish way his fingers first explored her body and she traced those remembered movements, across her nipples, down to her wide hips and finally between her legs where her hand now also drifted. She reclined back on the bed behind her, her fingers still covered with oil now massaging her increasingly wet pussy. She slid two fingers inside as she remembered the first time she had sex with Chris and how she guided his small but eager and hard-as-bone erection into herself. The pleasure became more intense – Lucy had almost forgotten how good it could be to be touched – and she began to rub circles around her clit. As she did, as the build up of pressure inside her called for more, her fantasy changed and she unexpectedly thought of the night when she caught Chris and Jo in the garden. She remembered the way Jo sluttily sucked on Chris’ cock and imagined that it was her mouth making him squirm with pleasure. Then she remembered Jo riding him, wriggling on top of him and wished that it was her he looked at with such lust in his eyes. She squirmed now against her fingers, almost whispering, “Oh yes, fuck me Chris, come on, fuck your little slut.” As she rubbed, more and more frantically, she could feel the wave of pleasure wash over her, the orgasm blocking out everything around her, her whole being focused just on the convulsing high.

Afterwards, as she lay there, her muscles limp, sighing with pleasure, she looked again in the mirror and admired the supple curves of her body still covered in olive oil, her breasts softly pressed against the bed, her nipples still hard. In her post-orgasmic glow she knew with complete certainty that there was no reason for Chris not to be attracted to her and that the problem had to be something else. Of course, she also knew deep down, but couldn’t yet admit to herself, that the problem was Chris. He was a nice, good looking boy but still a boy and she needed more somehow. Deep down she knew she didn’t respect him. As a lover he was gentle, but unadventurous, almost uninteresting. When they were in bed she was the dominant one and she didn’t like it.