Casa Bianca - Part 1

Jill smiled contentedly to herself as the plane circled over the hills surrounding Malaga airport as it prepared to land. She tried to spot the hill and the little winding road which lead to the villa but once again the restricted view through the small window prevented this, as it had done many times before. She and her husband Rob had first rented the villa some 4 years earlier and had stayed there two or sometimes three times a year. Last year when they discovered that it was for sale they had made enquiries and were now the proud owners of Casa Bianca – a villa set in its own private grounds with a heated pool and, from its elevated position on the hillside, a sea view to die for! This trip was a ‘first’ in two ways: it was the first that she had made without Rob who planned to join her there for the second week, and it was the first time that Jill would be staying at the villa as co-owner instead of just another holiday-maker renting for a week or two. Even the usual tiresome rigmarole at the airport went more smoothly than normal and in no time Jill was at the wheel of the hire car heading for her favourite place on earth - the Costa del Sol. Forty minutes later she pulled into the familiar car port built underneath the three-story villa and climbed the four flights of stairs onto the pool terrace leading to the front entrance. The weather was brilliant and she wanted to get into the sun as quickly as possible but she was hungry and tired after the trip from England and remembered that the agent was due to visit in just over an hour’s time to hand over the remainder of the keys; she therefore hurriedly unpacked her case in the bedroom which she had decided to use and drove round to the nearest supermercado to get some essential food items to keep her going until the following day. Casa Bianca had four bedrooms – the master bedroom on the first floor with its own luxury bathroom and balcony; two on the ground floor with en suite bathrooms and one in the basement. All those except the first floor had a separate door leading out firstly into a small patio area and beyond that into the garden. Jill and Rob usually stayed in the master bedroom but as she was on her own she had chosen what was really her favourite room on the ground floor. The gardens were not extensive but very private and a locked gate from the car parking area provided a good level of security. The agent turned out to be a lady who, luckily for Jill, was an expat who spoke fluent English as well as Spanish. The formalities did not take long – mostly Rob had dealt with these via his solicitors – and by 6pm Jill was sitting on the terrace watching a golden sunset with her second vodka and coke replying to a few texts from England, including one from Rob whom she had earlier rung from the airport on her arrival. If this wasn’t the Garden of Eden it came a very close second! Jill climbed into bed aware, really for the first time, that she was here in this large villa on her own. She was tired, but reading her book wasn’t really helping her to relax. She looked around the room and noticed how flimsy and thin the single net curtain was which covered the sliding door out onto the patio and made a mental note to replace it before she flew back home in two weeks. She thought of Rob stuck in England because of some big conference he was involved in next week; then her thoughts drifted to their ten-year marriage and the nineteen years difference in their ages; their successful business and their decision not to add to the two teenage c***dren from hell of Rob’s first marriage. At 38, Jill felt in her prime and she was determined to stay that way for as long as possible. She had everything she wanted (well.... almost!) including a figure that seemed to turn more heads now than ever before – not skinny by any means but going in and out in all the right places; olive-skinned with thick dark hair and brown eyes, she always looked forward to the extensive tan which these breaks usually provided. There was something about the combination of foreign holidays and sun which always seemed to turn Jill’s thoughts to those basic physical needs which lay under the surface – needs which lately had been rather neglected and which, a week earlier, had led to her buying for herself a new toy – a ‘slinky pink’ vibrator. This chain of thought, and her inability to get off to sl**p, led to Jill getting out of bed and trying to remember in which drawer she had put the vibrator. She had been unable to try it out properly until now and decided that here was a very good opportunity to ‘christen’ it. She lay back on the bed, spread her legs open and pushed up her cream baby-doll nightdress; she had always slept without panties. She started by stroking herself gently and letting her fingers trace the outlines of her pussy – recently shaven to enable her to wear her new skimpy polka dot bikini. The fact that she was alone in the villa gave her the freedom to make the noises which always seemed to help her to reach that critical point. As the tip of the vibrator teased her moistening lips, the sensation – quite a new one to Jill – slowly started to urge her towards her destination. Now the slinky pink was exploring further and deeper as she ran her free hand first around her bum cheeks and then across her nipples standing erect, then back again. “Oh God God” she cried to herself “This is so ...........incredibly fucking delicious. Mmmmmm... Ohhhhh.....Oooohhhhh.” And as her breathing became more and more intense her thoughts helplessly unlocked that memory from a camping holiday in France in 1986 when she was just f******n: “Hold her arms girls!.....someone pull her panties off!........let’s see how she likes this inside her! Snotty little cow!.......pull her nightie up and squeeze those tits for her.....You like it Jill? Are you gonna cum for us all? .........just wait til you get the real thing.... Look how wet her little cunt is getting! Whose turn is it to lick it tonight?” And with these thoughts,and much worse, at the forefront of her mind, Jill’s body and soul suddenly exploded into one of the most incredible and noisiest orgasms she had ever produced in her life – screaming out loud some of her worst fantasies “Oh God fuck me you bastards. Fuck me fuck me fuck me. Please don’t stop!” As this beautiful moment subsided Jill remembered thinking to herself how lucky for her she was alone for a while and free to do as she liked. She did not know it, but alone she was not. For outside her patio door in the shadows stood a young male figure who was able, with the help of her bedside lamp, to see just about everything that Jill had been doing and saying. His shorts had been pulled down to his ankles some while ago and he too was now recovering from a very powerful self-induced orgasm. “Tomorrow I’m going to have you, you dirty little bitch” he murmured to himself and then added “...........Hey, and when I tell the others, you are going to be one very sore little lady for a while” (To be continued)