The games commence

Sophie awoke a little disoriented the next morning. She had slept in late and he was gone when she awoke. She was alone in bed. Naked. She peeked under the covers and found her panties scrunched up at the bottom of the bed. Had he pulled them off? Or had she? The thought that he may have undressed her gave her a tingle and she gave a little naughty girly smile as she got up.

She showered and dressed in a swimsuit beneath a sarong and ventured outside to find him waiting on the beach. The ocean crashed behind him and the bright sun scorched the white sand, but she was starving and only had eyes for the fresh fruit and the freshly prepared omelettes the chef had prepared for them on their own private table on the beach.

She ate like a horse under his ever watchful gaze. She always had a good appetite although it never affected her slim figure, but the long flight had exacerbated things and now she made up for it. She ate quickly, messily and his large mitt covered her small free hand as she did so, a comforting gesture of intimacy that did not go unnoticed by the cook. A further squeeze of her hand by his as she wiped her mouth with her other hand. That would not go unreported among the staff, neither would the playful shrug of her shoulder and big smile at her man.

Her appetite sated, they walked along the gorgeous deserted beach for a while, holding hands, paddling in the bath warm waters, before retiring to the pool. They had decided to split their time between pool and beach since Sophie wanted to do her lengths each morning and afternoon. Besides, much as she liked the beach, she was naturally wary of the sun’s effects on pale English skin in these tropical climes.

The pool was a good size for serious swimming, with a few sun beds and grass umbrellas, for shade, with an a la carte dining area and cocktail bar just yards from the pool. There was an air of luxury, privilege even, confirmed by the designer beach attire on the few couples that were sprinkled around the terrace.

There were curious gazes from some of the couples as Sophie and her old man settled down by the pool. After she had put sunscreen on, she lay on the sun-bed, he reading in a chair beneath an umbrella. But always watchful. She liked the way he observed every twist and turn of her body as she sunbathed and relaxed, digesting her huge breakfast. ‘Like some weird South American snake’, she chuckled to herself. Late morning, she took to the pool, delighting in the cool frisson of the water on her skin after laying in the sun, before ploughing up and down in long, smooth, easy, metronomic strokes. She was a good, powerful, swimmer despite her diminutive size and it toned her body; her arm and leg muscles strong, her shoulders broad, small ass pert.

She gauged she had swum 2 miles or so before she eased herself out of the pool, smoothing the water off her body, down the clingy black one piece swimsuit. She lay back down on the sun bed under his, and several couples nearby, watchful eyes. Her small chest still heaved from her exertions and her costume flattened her tiny boobs, her nipples nonetheless proud. As her breathing rapidly returned to normal she stretched out to the sun to dry off quicker, eyes slitted to take note of who observed as her limbs lengthened and parted, Lycra clinging to those important feminine places. She smiled as she took in the sun, head tilted back at a jaunty angle, so many eyes on her parted thighs.

Once he was assured, through careful observation of her limbs so carefully draped, that she was dry, he suggested lunch. Sophie agreed and swept her sarong around her, mindful of cultural etiquette out here, as she stood, also taking in the reaction of the curious couples nearby. She excused herself and went to the bathroom before they took to their table.

Seated in the cool of the stall, her freshly peeled costume damp about her ankles, she braced her toes high on the cold marble floor as she evacuated with a satisfyingly smooth bowel movement but, shy of the splashing sound, held her breath as she heard the doors open and close as some other women came in. They were obviously gossiping in hushed tones in the cubicles nearby as they peed. She listened carefully, curious herself now, her breath still shallow and secretive as she caught whispered phrases.

“... disgusting to be honest...”

“... old enough to be her grandfather”

They flushed in concert and moved to wash their hands at the sink.

“.. that costume hides nothing”

The other voice chirping in, clearer now in its outrage “I know what you mean... she looks like a little girl but it leaves nothing to the imagination ... I caught my Terry looking between her legs, I swear... I gave him a piece of my mind...”

Sophie smiled as the hand driers kicked in and waited until she heard the doors open and close. Alone again, she cleaned herself up and flushed before slipping her costume and sarong on. She smile at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, eager to share this tale with her man.

Sophie joined him at the table with a smile on her face that just begged questions from him. She obliged with answers, truth be known she could barely contain herself. Of course she didn’t know which women it had been, so they amused themselves by secretly assessing their fellow guests as they sipped refreshing Bombay Sapphire cocktails. There were several candidates so he instructed her to ‘make some friends’. The game was on.