07. Strip Chess with Guapa - Sex Stories

07. Strip Chess with Guapa

... moved off to their cool mountain retreats. There was a load of maintenance work to do, which apparently my delightful best friend had signed me up for, in exchange for room and board. So five days past, working my bollocks off in the morning, heading out to explore Galicia during the afternoon siesta-time, then back to the apartments for another few hours before Guapa insisted we go out for dinner. For the Spanish this goes on into the small hours, during which I was very much Guapa’s mute showpiece, draping herself all over me and chattering away in Spanish to her friends. By the fifth day I was seriously drained and Guapa warned me to “take it easy,” by which she meant rest during siesta, not actually do less work. However if I didn’t, at least, head out during that time there would have been little point coming to Spain at all, other than to do her work for her in the day, and pose as her boyfriend by night. Guapa was a photography student and, when she wasn’t locked in her room with her doppelganger girlfriend, Maria, (the part about being lesbian did appear to be true at least) she was bugging me with her big lenses. Every day, the minute I got stuck in, she would appear, making me move this way and that. “Your sweat, it is diamonds when you do that! You don’t need a shirt, does a horse wear a shirt! Hold it, like this over your head!” I seriously started to wonder what I was involved in here, caretaking or a gay calendar. Maria never came out in the evening with us, ...

... or stayed over. She would arrive in the morning and leave just before siesta and there would always be much giggling and, more often than not, quite a lot of “urging noises.” It drove me crazy imagining what those beauties were getting up to behind Guapa’s closed shutters and one morning I found out. An unlocked shutter blew open as I was walking past and I got a glimpse of Maria sitting, naked, on a chaise with her back to me. Her legs up either side of her – spread 180 degrees – and Guapa was snapping away, knelt down between. She smiled at me coyly before I scampered off. What with the mad hours, the heat and the sexually charged atmosphere I was really – seriously – cursing Sara. This was supposed to be a break, but had turned into a microcosm of my entire life, or worse a distillation of it. The next day at breakfast, Guapa and I sipped bitter coffee in the courtyard at a monolithic stone table beneath the shade of a lemon tree. I felt honestly fucked. Worse. Unfucked. Guapa, as usual, was watching me. Whatever I did, she watched. “You have day off today,” she said, “You work too hard. Maria has finished with me now. We do something together maybe, you and me?” I shrugged and smiled. It might have been a thin kind of empathy, but it was the equivalent of a big hug and a kiss from this woman. I wondered how many men – or women – had dreamt of her saying that to them. Then I rewound what she said and thought, eh ? “You’ve finished with Maria?” “Si.” She patted an envelope ...