Erotica, Series
The Leatherbound Diaries, Part 24
Lust for Life: Cathy turns into a Peeping Tom and becomes enlightened by being edged
Previously: Cathy is invited by Daria, her friend with benefits, for a two-week-holiday at a grand villa in Italy with five other women. After being challenged by Else, who turns out to be Daria’s ex, Cathy realises her feelings for Daria are deeper than she wants to admit.
The door to their room was ajar, and their moaning was unrestrained, because they assumed they were alone in the house. Had I not come back for my Leica, they would’ve been for the rest of the afternoon. I did consider leaving them to it, tiptoe downstairs and go back outside. But I couldn’t resist having a peek.
I’ve actually been avoiding Bibi because she’s beautiful slash successful, a model slash photographer, really friendly slash smart. It’s intimidating in a way I can’t handle. Cassandra is too posh for me, which I can’t handle either. I’ve been making sure not to sit next to them during dinner, and avoided joining them in their car when we drive to the nearest village for groceries. But peeping into their room as they were having sex was irresistible. It makes them sort of normal, being naked and sweaty, grunting and cumming.
The crack was just about wide enough for me to spot them sitting naked on the edge of the bed. They must’ve been making out in the shower before, because their bodies were wet and Bibi sat on Cassandra’s lap, facing each other. Straddling, Bibi had her feet hooked behind her wife’s calves and grinded against what I guessed was Cassandra’s hand cupping Bibi’s pussy. Bibi thrusted her pelvis back and forth, her groaning short of breath, passionate and horny as hell. She held on to Cassandra’s shoulders, balancing herself as she continued to ride her lover’s hand.
I tried to see exactly where that hand was, but couldn’t. My curiosity got the better of me and I softly pushed the door further open. Bibi lifted herself and I now saw two of Cassandra’s fingers held up stiffly, dripping with lube or Bibi’s juices or both, just before Bibi thrust herself down again, consuming the fingers with her cunt.
Every time Bibi arched her back, Cassandra’s free hand pulled Bibi’s bum cheek, stretching her pussy lips, and giving me a full view of her holes. Bibi’s blonde, wet hair clung to her back as she squealed with every thrust. She was pretty wild, going at it as if she’d been deprived of fucking for quite some time. A sigh of arousal almost gave my presence away, and I bit my lip and pressed my thighs together. But how long could I ignore the tingle in my pussy, rapidly developing into an arousal which would no doubt leave a puddle in my knickers? The sensible thing was to sneak off, but I was glued to the vision of their gorgeous, entangled bodies as I watched them kiss deeply and ferociously. Bibi started giggling through her moans, a laughing fit I know all too well when the friction of fingers, a dildo or a cock touches your core and the building orgasm becomes more and more intense.
Cassandra was urging her lover on with words I couldn’t make out. But judging by the fierce look in her eyes, it wasn’t suitable for kids. Bibi hid her face in Cassandra’s neck, and she must’ve been sinking her teeth into the skin because Cassandra squealed and slapped Bibi’s ass in response.
Sneaking off was not an option anymore. I needed to see Bibi come.
She arched backwards, hanging on by Cassandra’s neck and shoulders. In that moment, like me, Cassandra admired her lover’s body, the beautiful boobs swaying. But then her gaze shifted, and she saw me. Our eyes locked, and I froze. The initial shock in her widening pupils changed when Bibi plunged forward again, embracing Cassandra and demanding her attention. Pressed against each other, Cassandra ignored my presence to hold Bibi tight while making her come. Through her frantic moaning, I could make out the pleading of the gorgeous model.
‘Please baby please. Oh, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, please baby…’
She still moved her pelvis back and forth but in a slower rhythm, trying to get Cassandra’s fingers deeper inside her. Her high-pitched cries changed into a low and extended grunt as she climaxed, coming to a grinding halt and burying her face in Cassandra’s neck. Her entire body heaved up and down as the orgasm slowly ebbed.
Cassandra observed me over Bibi’s shoulder and again our eyes locked. Her one hand was still obscured and no doubt inside Bibi’s cunt but with the other she followed Bibi’s spine down to the crack of her ass, and her middle finger teased the rim of the arsehole I could see so openly. It was clearly a provocation as Cassandra held my gaze.
Her action kick-started Bibi’s lust for more, because she moved her pelvis again. Cassandra whispered something into Bibi’s ear and for a moment I worried she’d revealed me. I was ready to flee, but Bibi licked Cassandra’s face like a puppy and continued to ride the fingers up her cunt. Cassandra continued to look at me.
It was hard to read her, to know what she wanted, but she clearly didn’t mind me being there as a Peeping Tom. I decided it was her turn to see some action from me. But as I lifted my skirt to slip my hand into my knickers, Cassandra raised an eyebrow and slowly, but sternly, shook her head. Did she mean I wasn’t allowed to touch myself? Her look reminded me of a teacher I had in middle school who got us cheeky monkeys to quit gabbing with just her piercing eyes. We nicknamed her Medusa and now here I was, stone faced, as another mythical character called Cassandra froze me on the spot with her look. Reluctantly, but obediently, and I’ll admit, a bit scared, I moved my hand away from my sodden crotch.
Bibi kept riding and swaying on Cassandra’s lap but less frantic than before, more like she was revelling in being satiated but still not having enough of it.
I just stood there watching, transfixed by Cassandra’s gaze. At one point, I felt I was drooling, but didn’t dare to wipe the saliva from my chin.
Bibi muttered high-pitched, staccato syllables that hardly formed intelligible words, but clearly expressed her delirious, orgasmic state. As much as I wanted to experience this too, I remained still. My heart wasn’t so much beating but drumming a war song, my nipples were hard and almost aching, my clit was twitching and begging to be touched, and the fabric of my thong was drenched with my fluids. The edging I was forced to endure became nearly intolerable as the couple kissed long and deep after Bibi collapsed against Cassandra, while her body contracted and shook through a series of desirable tremors. Their kiss forced Cassandra to close her eyes, and the spell was broken.
I still had the Leica in my hand, and without a thought I pointed the lens and surreptitiously snapped the living sculpture before me. On the celluloid of my camera roll, the back light from the window behind them would turn them into a dark silhouette, a tangle of limbs and love.
Panting, I hurried through the hallway. I didn’t know whether to throw myself on a bed and feverishly rub one out or run outside and jump into the pool. But once outside, I went up the hill behind the villa to a path I’d discovered yesterday which meandered through a grove of cypresses. When I’d gone up there earlier, I’d seen a group of stray cats lounging around the ruins of a gazebo. It was why I had gone back to fetch my camera.
The cats had gone when I slumped down on the sun-warmed stones of the ruin. I was still out of breath, still edging with want. I don’t know what made me do what I did. I had never taken any self-portraits. But I set up the Leica on a tree trunk and assessed the framing and the lighting. There was nothing but the rustling of the cypresses in the breeze, the shade they provided only broken by a few sunrays. I took off my clothes and welcomed the scented air on my skin. The self-timer whirred, and I hurried to pose on the remnants of the gazebo. Light and shadow created irregular stripes on my naked body like I was wearing a translucent, nymph-like camouflage.
I was still yearning for sexual relief, but I wanted to capture how I felt in that moment. Because it was more than just horniness invoked by witnessing the salacious scene of Bibi and Cassandra. Their love had been so clear, so much greater than the sex.
As I continued to pose for the camera that was once my father’s, I understood why Cassandra had forbidden me to finger myself. It had not been about me or my lust, it was about them, about Cassandra holding Bibi close most intimately. Their nakedness not sexual, but natural. Cassandra had kept me under her spell to make me see this, to transcend the desire for a fleeting climax. She hadn’t been edging me, but enlightening me.
I thought of the artist Francesca Woodman as I exposed myself to the celluloid in the Leica. Having recently discovered her amazing self-portraits, I’d read she used photography as a highly personal expression, like ‘wearing her skin inside out’. It made me think that sex is my expressive form of wearing my skin inside out, but Cassandra had shown me something else too.
Woodman jumped out of a window at 22, but despite the scarring grief of losing my parents, their compass to guide me, I am too much in love with life to embrace her weltschmerz. Like dad singing and mimicking Iggy Pop: ‘I’m just a modern guy / Of course, I’ve had it in the ear before / Been on a lust for life’. And like mum told me during those last days at the hospice in her habitual wiccan attitude, ‘go and find enchantment’.
Daria’s enchanted me and unconsciously I have let her, I’m still the girl who listens to her mum’s advice.
At the derelict gazebo, I posed to try and capture all of that, even my resistance to give in to loving Daria, to give in to love. I wanted to put the fear of losing her if I do, in the magic box that is a camera. I think I succeeded because it relieved me more than an orgasm.
I strolled down the hill, back to the villa. All the women were lounging on the terrace and I observed them from a distance. Beate, the ever horny, screeching pixie who’d brought Daria and me together in an unexpected manner. Katherine, who had played me masterfully like she plays the piano. Else, who made me fight for what I truly crave for and Cassandra and Bibi, whose love showed me what giving in looks like. And Daria, of course, who ran to me as soon as she saw me. She threw herself at me and held me as if I was a lost wanderer, coming back from years in the wild.
We kissed like lovers do and she told me the owner of the villa had arrived for the last day of our stay there. He’d come to make us farewell supper.
‘Is he a chef?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Daria said. ‘He’s inside, making us spritzers.’
An eerie premonition got hold of me, and I grabbed Daria’s hand. I stared at the door of the kitchen leading out to the terrace. When he came out with a tray full of colourful glasses, his gaze immediately met mine.
‘Alexander darling, you spoil us,’ Cassandra said as she picked up a spritzer from the tray.
Daria walked over to get a glass too and I had to follow as I wouldn’t let go of her hand.
‘Hi Cathy,’ was all he said as he held out a glass to a surprised Daria. My mouth was so dry I took it from him for a swig of the aperitivo before mustering a simple ‘Hey you’. Everyone raised their glasses and said cheers and chin-chin. Alexander noticed I was still holding Daria’s hand. She tried to pull it free, as I was squeezing it quite hard. But I held on and she gave me a confused look. To reassure her, I smiled happily, and before I knew it, the words escaped me.
‘I love you,’ I said, loud enough for Alexander to hear it.
[To be continued]
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