The Walled Garden - Sex Stories

The Walled Garden

... Rosa. "Is he still there?"

"He is," she whispered back. "But his shirt isn't. You're just in time."

The guesthouse stood across the grass and flowerbeds, beyond the apple tree that lived by itself in the centre of the lawn. Careful not to disturb the gauze drapes, I positioned myself by the window to get a good view. And what a view it was!

I could only see the boy from behind, but he was as pretty as Rosa had promised. The curls fell across his back, which rippled with muscles under his olive skin. The arms were long and sinewy, gleaming with a sheen of sweat in the late afternoon sun. And the arse...!

Despite his slender form, he filled his cotton shorts with a shapely roundness. The material hugged his cheeks and highlighted the firm thighs beneath. To my surprise I found myself wondering what they looked like from the front.

"Very nice," I murmured. I took a sip of wine, and a sudden thought struck me.

The cupboard in this room held a box of holiday gear. Including a pair of small yellow binoculars. A moment later I had them pressed to my eyes, running them over that tanned, toned body like a lover's fingertips.

Rosa was still whispering in my ear. "Yes baby, reach for that branch."

He was stretching up to prune a rosebush. I let the binoculars caress his legs, noting the short curly hairs and a drop of sweat running down his thigh. Without looking away I groped around with my free hand until I found my wine glass.

"How old is he?" I asked, ...

... taking a sip.

"Twenty, according to his profile on their website. Name's Roberto." Rosa's whisper was sounding decidedly breathy. "Mama likes Roberto."

The old me surfaced from its deep hibernation to tell me that I liked Roberto too. He had a scratch on his arm, presumably from a thorn, and it just highlighted how perfect his skin was. He was wearing a pair of heavy gloves that hid his hands, but I could imagine his fingers: strong, agile, capable.

He bent down to pick up a roll of string. In my ear I heard Rosa moan. "Look at that arse! Have you ever seen anything so perfect?"

I didn't reply. I was busy staring through the binoculars. My tongue, I discovered, was licking my lips.What would it feel like? I wondered.How does his skin taste?

I imagined running my lips over his back, from his neck to his crack. Sliding my hands over his thighs, up and down to feel the muscles-

"Tina? Are you still there?" Rosa was whispering in my ear again. I returned to the present and hastily searched through the binoculars until they filled with bronze skin. A gasp escaped me before I realised it was there.

Roberto had turned round, and my sight was filled with his stomach and chest. It was an athlete's body - a swimmer, perhaps - all defined and toned without being excessively muscled. A light covering of curly hairs rose from his shorts, reaching for his navel like I wished my fingers were.

"He's... delicious." I could hear the hunger in my voice. A hunger I'd ...