07. Strip Chess with Guapa - Sex Stories

07. Strip Chess with Guapa

I can highly recommend 'strip chess', but I have to say choose your partner carefully if you don’t want to be sitting there naked in the first ten minutes. It’s not a game of chance. I was in Spain, where I had been sent by my devious little cow of a best friend as a recompense for being dumped by Charlotte, one of the girls she had tried to set me up with. Charlotte had got back together with a childhood sweetheart just two weeks into our relationship (see Charlotte and Amsterdam’s Venustemple to understand how annoyed I might be about that…) and even though it was never going to last with her – I was a little relieved she did it first – I was still having a bit of a crisis of confidence. Sara’s theory was that I needed to get away for a few days. She said if I could get to Galicia in Northern Spain, then there was an open invitation from a friend of hers to stay in an apartment there. “What nature of ‘Friend’?” “An exchange student I met. A caretaker. A lesbian caretaker in fact.” Sounded safe, though I should have taken note of the bitten back smile when she told me her friend's name: 'Guapa.' This, to me, sounded like a very ugly name. I really should have looked it up before I agreed. 'Guapa' is a brilliant Spanish word that we don’t have a direct translation for in English, meaning both beautiful and attractive. This fact only started to become clear to me when she picked me up on her scooter at the airport and Spanish men were shouting “GUAPA!” at her – much to her ...

... annoyance – and I was wondering how come so many people knew her, and how rude she was to them. On top of this, Guapa looked every inch a supermodel. Tall and slim and tanned with cheekbones to cry for and tempestuous eyes. Her hair was a dark mane, blowing about her as she shook my hand with a brilliant white smile, then shaking her thumb at the back of her moped. “Hold tight to me!” she shouted over her shoulder, revving noisily and pulling away before I was even settled, “Don’t worry I won’t think you’re a girl!” After the forty-minute hurtle on her knackered little hairdryer I was shaking uncontrollably. Not least of all because I did indeed hold her on to her, very tightly, and her body had made an indelible impression on me. I made less of an impression on her, unfortunately, and she was laughing huskily as we pulled into the courtyard of her apartment building, and parked up the bike. “You okay, mister… Cat?” “Call me Big,” I joked, badly. She laughed at me again. “No, I don’t think so.” So how did we get from this ignominious beginning to playing strip chess? Five days of hard labour, that’s how. It turned out that Guapa’s “caretaking” duties began and ended with tempting tradesmen to work for almost nothing on the four massive apartments she looked after. The reason I was there, was to cover for that fact that no Spanish builder, no matter how bedazzled by Guapa’s smile, will work through a Spanish summer. In fact, it was so hot that even its wealthy inhabitants had all ...