- Added : February 11, 2020
- Words : 2055
- Views : 100 views
I just turned twenty when I went to Magaluf on the Spanish island of Majorca. Back in those days they called it Shagaluf. For obvious reasons. It was the last summer before completing my degree, a final chance to let my hair down, then it would be time to start a job. ‘Stockbroker,’ I thought. I was studying Business at Durham University so that seemed like the right career path.
As I’ve always been a bit of a loner I decided to visit Magaluf by myself. And I won’t deny the prospect of meeting loads of young, sexy, wanton women was the main attraction. So far I hadn’t really been too successful in my love life. But I had started to realize I was hitting on the wrong type. Overly intelligent feminist chicks. Don’t get me wrong, I admire an independent woman who understands her own mind, but prefer one who also knows what she wants sexually. I wanted some fun. My past lovers seemed unsure if they should be enjoying sex. Perhaps I simply needed a firm hand – on my cock! A woman who had sex in mind rather than getting the top grade for that semester.
Apparently I was good looking. Yeah, looking back I definitely was. The dark-haired, brown-eyed, broody combination. Of course I had passion too. So I set off in search of women who could match my zest for life.
I chose a basic room fifteen minutes walk from the main part of town and the beach, figuring it would provide a bit of peace and quiet when I wanted. I went straight to bed after arriving late from the airport. The next morning I woke up to that amazing summer scent of heat and local blossoms. Peering out the window the road looked dry and dusty as the midmorning sun beat down.
Once showered, dressed and with a final check in the mirror, I donned my straw trilby and set off into town.
I was pleasantly surprised at how tranquil it seemed, then realized that the party animals were – of course – still asleep. Needing breakfast I entered a small bar – Jock’s Place – with a sign outside: ‘Full English Here.’ Sitting down at a square table I was served by an older guy. He was at least sixty and sounded like he was from Scotland. Must be Jock, I reckoned.
As I ate my well-cooked breakfast – sausage, egg, bacon and beans – a dowdy looking woman in loose fitting overalls was mopping the terracotta floor. Mrs Jock perhaps? I cleared my plate, paid and strolled down to the beach.
Relaxing on the sun lounger I watched the babes massaging lotion into their boobs and thighs. I have to admit my cock stirred but many of these girls reminded me of the ones I had been happy to leave behind in Durham. This observation was reinforced in the evenings when I trawled a few of the nightclubs and chatted to some. They appeared to be entirely focused on themselves, forever preening, giggling or looking down their noses at lads like me.
I settled into a bit of a routine. Jock’s Place for breakfast and often dinner too. The sand and the surf while the sun shone. Then on to a club at night. I tried most of the popular ones over the first few days of my holiday. Yet the only place I kept returning to was Jock’s. It was comfortable in a homely kind of way.
One morning whenI was paying the bill Jock mentioned they were throwing a theme night party – Elvis and the 1950’s – and handed me a half price ticket. Sounded like fun.
That evening I got out the gel, slicked my hair back into a duck’s tail and fashioned myself a slim tie. I was ready, ready, ready to rock ‘n roll. The bar was starting to fill up when I arrived. To my secret delight the interior had been designed in the style of an authentic 50’s diner. Red and white checked tablecloths, neon signs on the walls. Jock had even managed to obtain a retro jukebox from somewhere. Finding a corner table I ordered a bite to eat and watched my burger arrive in the hands of a rather sexy waitress in tight pencil skirt and blouse. She wore seamed stockings – I could detect the garter through her skirt – and stilettos. Her hair was tied up in a high pony tail and it wasn’t until she set the plate down on the table that I recognized her as Jock’s dowdy wife. Oh my goodness – I knew she had to be more than twice my age but looked hot as hell. I watched her while I ate, c darting around, serving other tables. Bottom wiggling seductively as she walked. Tits held up high, bouncing slightly and her cleavage on show every time she bent to pick up a plate.
Over at the bar I got talking to a crowd of kids from Australia. I had a chat and dance with a few of the girls. They were more down to earth than the ones I’d tried to pull at the clubs.But Mrs Jock kept catching my eye. I was sure she was glancing over at me as much as I was her. Towards the end of the evening I nipped outside for a cigarette and she followed. Not a word was said. Looking me straight in the eye she slipped into a dark alleyway, glancing round at me. I stubbed out the fag and followed. As I rounded the bend she was stood there with her back pressed against the wall. Immediately her arms reached around my neck as she pulled me in for a kiss. I fumbled with the buttons on her blouse and pulled the bra cups under her luscious boobs. They spilled out into my hands as I grabbed a handful of flesh. My other hand pulled up her tight skirt, and was happy to have my previous assumptions proved correct – stockings- and would you believe it, no knickers!
I pulled at her silky pubic hair and she moved her legs so I could reach between them. Her cunt was warm, wet and inviting. Without hesitation I grabbed a jacket for my little man from my shirt pocket. Her hands were already inside my fly. Slipping on the rubber I hitched up her skirt, lifted her slightly and my cock sought out her heat and snaked its way in. Holding on tight she pushed back against me each time I thrust forward and up, and soon we were fucking like our lives depended on it. Her nails digging into my shoulders, teeth in my neck. Then when I exploded inside her my whole body shook from head to toe. It was a real knee-trembler and suddenly I could hardly stand. I held on to the wall gasping, steadying myself as she quickly redid her blouse and shimmied down her skirt. Then, smoothing back her hair she lightly kissed me on the lips and was gone. Leaving me in a daze, hardly able to believe what had just happened.
The next morning I sheepishly went back for breakfast as normal. I saw her straight away. How did I ever perceive her as drab? Yeah she had her work clothes on. But her smile lit up the room and her skin was a glorious caramel shade that certainly belied her age.
When Jock came over to serve me I didn’t know where to look. The night before I had shagged his wife. And here he was putting my breakfast on the table. As he handed me the ketchup he winked and smiled. Walking past his wife he gave her an affectionate pat on the backside.
Later that day as I lay on the beach I realized I couldn’t get Mrs Jock out of my head. I didn’t even know her name. I vowed to remedy this, later the same evening.
As soon as I walked in she hurried over to serve me. I imagined her serving my cock while kneeling between my legs. I inhaled her scent and asked,
“What do they call you?”
“What, you mean apart from the alleyway whore?” She smiled. “Seriously, that’s not something I make a habit of. But I saw the need in your eyes. My name’s Judy. What’s yours?”
“Daniel. Well, Dan really. I think you’re gorgeous.”
The compliment slipped out before I could help myself. I felt a bit of an idiot but Judy smiled so sweetly I was glad I’d told her. It was the truth anyhow.
My new Australian friends came in and were going on somewhere else. They asked me to join them but I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
It was quiet at Jock’s so I spent the evening at the bar chatting to them both as they came and went serving drinks. I learned that Judy was fifty six, and Jock seven years older. They had owned the bar for twenty years and Jock admitted to feeling the strain in recent years. Judy was such a fox. Its true age is but a number.
As one day turned into the next, Jock’s conversation took an unexpectedly candid turn
“I love my wife dearly. But she has an insatiable sexual appetite. I just canna keep up with her anymore. She told me about what happened wi’ you two the other night. She’s my best friend. We talk about everything.”
I began to blush and stuttered some kind of apology.
“No Dan. Don’t be sorry. I am happy you’re here. She needs a wee bit of fun. In fact why don’t you take her up to the apartment right now? It’s pretty quiet tonight and I can manage until closing time by myself.”
He handed me the apartment key and called his wife over.
“Judy, take Dan here, up to the apartment and entertain him a bit. Now there’s a good girl.”
With a big smile she casually slipped her arm through mine and together we climbed the stairs to the apartment. Straight away she skipped into the bathroom to reappear moments later in a scanty negligee. Red and see-through. As she walked over to me the netted material grazed at her nipples, her boobs bobbing up and down. Without a word she sat next to me on the sofa and deftly undid the buttons on my 501’s. My prick bounced into her waiting hand and I sat back letting her skilled fingers work their magic. Once rock hard Judy sat astride and carefully lowered herself onto me. This woman knew what she wanted. Maneuvering herself to get the angle just right for maximum pleasure. Her back against me, I wasted no time in tweaking her nipples, which felt as hard as my cock. She rode in on a wave of loud moans and yelps. Jock was right. Judy loved sex and I loved giving it to her.
Nearing the end of my trip I had became hugely fond of both of them.
“I can tell yer in no hurry to get back home, eh Dan?” Jock had guessed.
“It’s a good life you have here for sure. But isn’t it empty in the winter?” I inquired.
“A wee bit quieter than now, aye, but because of where we are we always get custom. I’m only going ask ye the once. I’m not getting any younger, son. I need help with the business. Stay for a bit. Defer your last year. Judy would love it too. You can have the extension out back as yer own wee pad. What do yer say, Dan?”
Before he had even finished his speech I was already nodding like a dog.
That was ten years ago. Never went back to Durham. I’ve bought into the business now. I expect one day it will be mine. And I don’t get bored. The local scene has provided me with some interesting entertainment – let’s just say I have made a few friends. But I’m always happy to get back to the bar.
Jock is still going strong. But with me at the helm he gets to take a bit of time off. Does a little fishing. Yeah, it’s a great life here and Judy’s still as hot as ever . In fact she’s taught me a thing or two about making the most of Shagaluf. But maybe that’s a story for another day.