Sotavento Beach; Cueva Francesca

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Chapter 1; Tim

A soft warm hand on my shoulder, shaking me, waking me and a distant voice echoing around my brain as I sought to establish just who and where I was.

“¿está usted bien?”

“¿Usted necesita ayuda?”

A soft female voice then and the realisation that in fact I had fallen asleep on my beach.

At least, what I considered to be my beach.

In truth it was a small secluded cove about half way along the magnificent Sotovento beach in Fuerteventura. I had found the cove at the end of an overgrown track leading off the main road from Caleta to Jandia.

“¿está usted bien?”

“¿Usted necesita ayuda?.

The same questions were repeated.

” No, I’m OK, thanks,” I said pushing myself up onto my knees and dusting the loose sand off my chest. “Sí, Im multa, gracias, yo conjeturan que debo tener dormido caída.”

I turned to face the girl who had almost certainly saved me from a bad case of sunburn.

She was stunning, late twenties, around 5’6″ tall, 120 lbs, black eyes, dark skinned, with waist length hair tied into a flowing single plait. She was dressed in a wet suit and carrying a snorkel mask.

“Soy Francesca” she said

“and I’m Tim,” I replied extending a hand.

“You really should get some sun cream on your shoulders” she said lapsing into a beautifully accented English, “they are looking quite red.”

I reached forward and rummaged through my beach bag, pulling out a bottle of an Aloe Vera after sun lotion. In truth my shoulders were beginning to tingle and I checked my watch to see how long I had been asleep, I frowned in surprise as I realised that far from a short nap I had actually slept for a couple of hours.

Francesca saw me checking the time and said, “You were asleep a long time weren’t you. I saw you were asleep when I passed here on my way for a swim and when I saw you hadn’t moved when I came back I wondered if you were ill or something.”

I turned what I hoped was my best smile and said that I had been working all night and had just come down here to chill out for a while.

She asked what I did for a living and I told her that I worked at the airport, looking after the business and private aircraft that routinely used Puerto Del Rosario.

“Would you mind if I joined you for a while,” she asked.

“Not at all, would you like a beer?” I said and pulled a couple from my bag and passed one to her, which she accepted with a smile.

She sat beside me and stretched out her long legs.

“How about you,” I asked, “How do you spend your time”

“I lecture,” she told me, “I teach Spanish History at Madrid University.”

We sat and chatted for a while, watching the birds sweeping in to take the fish from the shallow waters along the beach. We talked about each other’s lives and occupations as we drank the beers then,

“Look, Tim, I didn’t mean to socialise today and I haven’t actually brought anything down to change into, but I really need to get out of this wet suit, its making me sweat. I’ve made myself a little nest up there in the rocks, would you care to join me for a drink or something?”

“Sure,” I said, “I’ve been on the beach too long as it is”

I pulled a pair of shorts over my trunks, grabbed my shirt and stood up, and collected the few things I had brought down with me and stowed them in my beach bag. I followed Francesca up the hill toward where I had left the car but she broke away from the path, toward the base of the hill that overlooks the cove. A stony track virtually invisible led to the very foot of the cliff. She pulled away some branches of loose vegetation, carefully laying them to the side and there in front of us was the entrance to a small cave.

“Welcome to mi casa de la cueva,” she smiled, “Come in and make yourself comfortable”

The cave was a lot bigger than I had expected, extending to about 20′ in depth and about 15′ wide with a ceiling that allowed a person of average height to stand normally without stooping. The single entrance rose to about 7′ and was about 4′ wide.

It was immediately obvious that this cave had been lived in for many hundreds of years; generations past had made use of its natural shelter. Each generation had added to its décor and there were traces of all of them.

“How did you find this place,” I asked, “its virtually invisible from any direction”

Francesca explained that whilst researching the subject of the Guanche tribes of the Canary Islands she had discovered that many of the early tribes had made use of the original geographical features of the landscape and that she had found this one whilst looking specifically for just such a place.

“I am convinced that no-one knows its here now, its far enough off the track and unless someone is actually following you, you seem to disappear just after the bend in the track.

I’ve been coming here now for the last five years, at all times of the year and its always just the way I remember it, nothing changed or moved.”

“Beside I’ve never seen anyone else in the cove at the end of the track, you must pendik escort have stumbled on it by accident.”

I told her that in fact I hadn’t found it by accident; I had seen the cove whilst doing a low level flight test and had noted its position and decided to investigate.

I was able to confirm that the track to the cave and the cave itself were not visible from the air, or from the beach, so her privacy was virtually guaranteed.

“It’s a bit basic,” she said, “there are no amenities as such, but there is a shower of sorts when I remember to fill the tank. I have managed to make it habitable as a sort of day place. If you need to pee though you will need to go outside and find a convenient bush!”

Some cushions and beanbags were strewn around the floor and some wall hangings (towels?) hung from the protruding roots of the vegetation growing through the walls. The remains of a fire littered the centre of the floor.

Sure enough a rudimentary shower comprising an old 20 litre plastic container with a tap and a length of hose with a showerhead attached was assembled into a corner.

“Help yourself to a beer, and would you get one for me,” she said, “there is a cool box in the corner.”

I opened it up and it gave up its contents of some cold meats, cheese, bread and beer. I made up a small snack for us and opened a couple of beers. We continued the small talk about this and that until, as if she had made up her mind about something she said,

“Tim, would you give me a hand with this, please.”

I heard zips being unfastened, and turned toward her. She was standing in the entrance to the cave, and as she stooped to unfasten the zips at her ankles, the neoprene of the suit moulding itself to her slim narrow hips and the cheeks of her bottom. I felt the strong stirring of an erection in my shorts.

With her back to me, Francesca slid down the long zip that ran from the neck of the wet suit down to the crutch, and shrugged her shoulders out of the restricting neoprene. I took hold of the collar as she struggled to break the seal between the suit and her skin and literally peeled the suit away from her. As the suit passed below her waist, I realised that under the suit she was naked, and the tugging erection in my shorts became stronger.

She slid and peeled the suit down seemingly impossibly long legs, every inch of its removal revealing more of her beautiful lithe body, until at last she was able to pull off the suit over her feet.

Francesca turned to face me. Without a trace of embarrassment she stood before me, her hands on her hips and her long, long legs slightly apart. Her head thrown slightly back, her small breasts rose and fell as breathed deeply. A strangely amused look crossed her face as I stood totally gobsmacked in front of her. I let my eyes flow over her body, over the soft curves of her waist and across the rounded hips, down to her thighs and the mound of soft black hair at the junction. She was totally unabashed by her nakedness and was flaunting it before me, inviting a response, inviting me to challenge her. Silhouetted against the light, she was Woman at her most powerful, and yet at the same time her most vulnerable.

“So, Tim,” she breathed, “here we are; what are we going to do now?”

I crossed the cave toward her, but she stopped me about six feet in front of her.

“Let me see you, Tim”

I took off the shirt and tossed it across the room toward one of the cushions. I am normally shy in front of women, my build having once been described as that of a ‘racing snake’. Six feet tall and 150 lbs., I am very slim and know that most women like their men to have a bit of muscle, but on this occasion it didn’t seem to matter. To be naked in front of this woman would be a privilege, an honour. I slid the shorts from my waist, allowing them to fall to my ankles and stepped out of them.

My cock felt huge in the confines of my swim shorts and sure enough the shape was outlined severely through the material, as I stood motionless in front of her. She moved directly to me, her small breasts caressing my chest, the nipples hard and protruding, seeking out my mine. Our lips met, brushed, caressed and then bruisingly combined in a kiss that seemed to last forever. Her tongue sort out mine, pushing its way deep into my mouth, contesting its right to be there, I sucked on her tongue pulling it further into my mouth. After a second lifetime had gone by we mutually broke the kiss as my hands moved to her waist and then down to her hips pulling her hard against me.

” Francesca,” I whispered, but she moved a finger to my lips quieting me.

“No words,” she said, “no words,” just actions and deeds. All that I am is yours for the now, all that you are is mine.”

I felt her hands tugging at the waistband of my shorts as she sought to guide them over my engorged penis. I took her hands in mine and between us we slid the offending material down to my feet.

My cock, free of its final restraints, grew even stronger and harder than before.

I felt Francesca ‘s cool maltepe escort hands take hold of my rampant tool as she experimentally slid them along its long hard length. A sigh escaped her lips and she let go, moving backward slightly.

Placing her hands on my chest she dropped down to a kneeling position, her head level with my cock. Her fingers played with the short hair on my chest before closing on the nipples and briefly pinching them before maintaining an even, tight pressure on them.

She looked up at me and opened her mouth. The tip of her tongue tapped the eye of my cock and drew a string of pre-cum from it. She teased the eye and head of my cock flicking it with just a feather light touch in a no hands routine that had my cock jumping in anticipation of her next move. I felt her move forward slightly and she took her right hand from my chest and clamped it firmly around my cock.

Francesca seemed to sense my anticipation and taking a deep breath, took my cock deep into her mouth, teasing it all the while with her tongue, swirling it around the head. Slowly she withdrew and then plunged down deep again taking it deeper and deeper with each new move. Then Francesca pulled back all the way and moved her tongue down the underside, swooping down on my balls, taking each in turn and swirling them around in her mouth, her tongue busy all the while. There was no way on this earth that I would be able to restrain myself for very long under the continuous action of her tongue on my cock and my balls. Her incessant tweaking, pinching on my nipples was sending urgent messages to my cock, urging me to pull her hard into me, to fuck her mouth until I came.

Her urgent movements slowed as the initial throbbing commenced deep in my balls, and with three fingers she pushed hard into my perineum, delaying me, slowing me and stopping me reaching the inevitable conclusion. Nevertheless, a mind numbing shock wave shot from my balls to my brain. My brain exploded as a thousand stars went into supernova.

When the universe reassembled itself, Francesca moved back slightly, her hands resting gently on my hips.

“OK?” she asked.

“More than OK,” I said breathlessly, “fucking marvellous”

“Good,” she said, “My turn…”

Chapter 2; Francesca

I walked down to the beach, carefully picking my way through the undergrowth, stopping off briefly at Cueva Francesca, my jokey name for a small cave set near the bottom of the cliff, making sure that nothing was disturbed since my last visit the previous week and dumping my cool box and a track suit in the corner.

I was well pleased with my little discovery; I had found the cave some years earlier and despite the increasing popularity of Sotavento Beach, this particular area was largely undiscovered. The fact that access was so difficult helped a lot. Scrambling through heavy undergrowth, sometimes at shoulder height, stumbling occasionally through loose, stony shale, I had found the cave full of weeds and plants. All that summer I worked to clear the cave, to give me a little beach hut, somewhere to retire to when the winds were to high to swim safely, somewhere to leave a change of clothes when I go scuba diving.

Over in one corner I had fashioned a sort of shower, albeit using seawater, which needed special soap but after a couple of hours in a wet suit it was good to freshen up a bit before getting changed. I desperately needed to fashion a toilet, but that would need some thought as to disposal. Maybe if the was a suitable DIY man in her life she could get something organised. In the meantime, there was always the undergrowth and a shovel, or the Atlantic.

I walked down to the beach and saw a guy on the beach, laid out on a towel. Slim build, lightly muscled, late twenties, longish hair and a deep tan that could only have been developed on the island over time. He was apparently asleep since despite her noisy approach he gave no sign of awareness of her presence. I shrugged, a little annoyed that someone had found what she considered to be her own private beach.

Pulling on the snorkel mask and tube I waded out into the ocean and spent a relaxing hour swimming and generally chilling out, doing my own thing. Happy that at least I had the sea to myself. After an hour the first twinges of tiredness began to creep up on me and reluctantly decided to head for shore.

As I came up on the beach I saw that the guy was still there, and was concerned to see that he didn’t appear to have moved. Fearing that he may be ill, I approached him and when there was still no sign of movement, called out to him,

“¿está usted bien?”

“¿Usted necesita ayuda?.

No response, I touched him lightly on the shoulder and felt a momentary shiver run trough him. Again I asked after his well being,

“¿está usted bien?”

“¿Usted necesita ayuda?.

He opened his eyes and looked in my direction, since I had the sun at my back he squinted against the glare, before responding

” No, I’m OK, thanks, “Sí, Im multa, gracias, yo conjeturan que debo tener dormido kartal escort caída.”

He is English then, Spanish with an accent, but clearly at home with the language.

“Hola,” I said, “I’m Francesca. If I were you I’d get some cream on your shoulders or you will burn”

“I’m Tim,” he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position and stretching out a hand.

We shook hands and I asked if he would mind if I joined him. He dug out a couple of beers from his beach bag,

“Sure,” he said, “Id be glad of the company.”

We chatted about this and that and I established that he was the Station Manager of the Executive Jet Centre down at Fuerteventura Airport at Puerto Del Rosario. I was totally familiar with this area because my apartment on the island lies between the end of the runway and the start of the Rosario ring road. It’s noisy but bearable most of the time.

I talked at length about my job in Madrid as a lecturer, but eventually hunger pangs set in and I invited Tim back to Cueva Francesca.. I think I had decided by then that Tim was special and worthy of further investment…

I led the way back through the undergrowth, toward the base of the cliffs, and then started the climb toward the break off point that leads up to the cave. As we approached, a look of puzzlement appeared on Tim’s face and I took his hand and led him toward the entrance that I had, as always, carefully disguised with longer branches of the dried grasses so prevalent in the area. I cleared the entrance and went inside.

“Welcome to ‘Cueva Francesca!” I said, “please come in and make yourself at home.”

“Grab yourself a beer, Tim, and get one for me would you.” Tim emptied the cool box and made a couple of sandwiches whilst I sat at the entrance to the cave wishing I could find a way to take this further without appearing too pushy. We Spanish may have reputation for being hot blooded but traditionally I had standards to maintain.

The tingling feeling deep in the pit of my stomach however was slowly spreading and finding its way to other lower areas, and I was becoming wet, and it wasn’t just the stale sea water either. I felt myself reddening and suddenly getting very hot and was pleased that Tim couldn’t see what his presence was doing to me.

A decision had to be made, but deep down I knew that my body had already made its mind up.

I slipped the zips open at the wrists and ankles of the wet suit, and then unfastened the long zip that ran from the collar down to the crutch.

“Tim could you give me a hand with this, help me get it off.”

He put down his beer and came up behind me and with his strong arms at the collar I manoeuvred my shoulders out of the constraints of the wet suit and pulled my arms out of the sleeves. We rolled the suit down to the waist and I felt Tim’s hands gently caress my breasts as they became free. At once, I was anxious, If Tim was a boob man then he would be disappointed; although I an proud of my breasts I am also aware that they are smaller than normal. If however Tim was a nipple man then he would be in heaven, for mine are perfect, responding instantly to touch caress of kiss, rising abruptly like miniature penis’s.

I moved away slightly and rolled the suit down my legs, exposing the fact that under the suit I was totally naked. I shrugged out of the suit and carefully positioned myself in the doorway to the cave, facing Tim so that I would be silhouetted against the sunlight.

Naked and feeling a little stupid, I stood with my hands on my hips legs planted firmly about a foot apart and my head thrown back slightly. This was a provocative pose and I found it empowering. This was my party and I was going to be firmly in charge of the pace and proceedings. I wanted to see Tim in the same state I was in. I knew from the accidental(?) brushes of his cock against my ass cheeks whilst removing the suit, that he was well endowed and ready for action.

“Let me see you, Tim,” I said.

He removed his shirt and his slim, lithe body reacted well. Facing me as he was meant that although I was silhouetted so that the detail of my front was in shadow, Tim’s front was well lit. He shrugged out of his shorts and threw them over to join his shirt and my wet suit

And then hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trunks, and I moved toward him, my hands joining with his as the trunks went the way of the shorts. We kissed gently at first then more and more demandingly, our tongues lashing each other in their urgency, A lifetime passed before we broke away. He stood before me, his cock was fully alive, rampant and beautiful, twitching with a life of it’s own. I reached down and took his cock in my hand and stood before him and worked his cock with the fingers of my left hand whilst my right teased across his chest tracing the circumference of his nipples, before lightly nipping them in turn to gauge the response.

The response was amazing and immediate; he shuddered violently as my fingers tweaked them in turn, the messages being instantly transmitted to his cock which twitched in sympathy and seemed to grow another inch, becoming harder and more even more impressive. My juices were flowing freely, I was wet and I imagined my juices running from my open demanding vagina, in anticipation of having this cock inside me.

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