Cherri
- 2 years ago
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Her Face free porn video
I stood on the balcony taking in the panoramic view of the bay with its calm waters, and farther out the huge rollers crashing against the two arms of land protecting the inner waters.
I turned briefly from the view to look along the façade of the building. It was then I saw her. On the next balcony, her elbow resting on the balustrade, her chin cupped in her hand.
She was in profile to me, and I was transfixed by her beauty. Her long dark hair tumbling down to cascade over her shoulders in shining waves. Her nose was straight and clearly defined, as were her lips from what I could see. Her breasts resting on top of the balustrade seemed large and firm and although most of the rest of her body was hidden from me, I got the impression of a slim figure.
My hotel room was on the third floor, and from the main window you could step out onto a balcony. I was living a life of indulgence and luxury for once.
More or less as a joke I had sent in a short story to a magazine which had offered as a prize a week in this opulent hotel and a reasonable sum of spending money to go with it. To my utter amazement, I won. So, from my normally frugal student lifestyle, I was suddenly living a life of the well-to-do, even if only for a few days. The sight of the lovely woman on the next balcony, however, would have been prize enough, even if that was all there was.
I stayed very still, hardly daring to breathe, in case even my slightest action might alert her to my presence, and she moved away. I felt as if I could have gazed upon her engaging loveliness forever.
A little girl about five years of age, came out onto the balcony and said, ‘I’m ready, mummy. Can we go now?’ The woman stood up straight and turned, saying, ‘Of course, darling.’ As she turned, her other profile came into my line of vision, and I was stunned. On that side, the left side, her face was horribly scarred.
Perhaps if the right profile had not presented itself with such exquisite beauty, the shock would not have been so great. The sheer contrast made her marred left profile appear worse than it was. I conjectured that she had received a very bad burn. This had dragged down the corner of her eye and mouth, and left a scar across her cheek and temple.
Her hand went up to her hair and she arranged it in a pathetic attempt to cover that side of her face. She took the little girl’s hand and together they left the balcony. I remained still staring at the spot where I had seen her, for some time.
I thought, not for the first time, how cruel life could be. What it gives with one hand, in her case beauty, it so casually takes away with the other. In futile fashion, I wondered if it would be better not to have beauty, or whatever other gift nature might bestow, in the first place. Then any loss might not be felt so bitterly.
I gave up musing on this philosophical conundrum, and reentered my room. I had intended to start exploring the locality, which offered both beach attractions and tracks winding into the adjacent rain forest. I decided on the beach as my first walk.
I left the hotel and followed a narrow path through some dense scrub that fringed the beach. Coming out onto the sands, I set off in the direction of one of the arms of land that met the ocean.
There was hardly a person in sight, except in the distance I could see the lady of the balcony and the little girl, who seemed to be rushing back and forth, daring the little wavelets to catch her.
They were moving very slowly and I would soon catch up with them. I had that awkward, embarrassed feeling that one often has in the face of a crippled, or in this case, a disfigured, person. Could I walk straight past them, ignoring their presence, or should I say, ‘Hello.’ If I greeted them and there was any sort of conversation, would I be able to act ‘normally,’ or would I give away my feelings about the lady’s injuries? Would my reaction reinforce any self-consciousness she might feel about her scars?
I decided on a brisk pace so as to pass them quickly. My plan did not work out quite as I hoped. As I drew level with them the little girl looked at me and asked with childlike directness, ‘You’re the man in the room next to ours, aren’t you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I saw you on the balcony.’
‘Did you?’
I felt a wrench at my heart as I saw her mother stop and turn so her injury was not visible to me.
‘Karin, you mustn’t bother the gentleman,’ then addressing me, ‘I’m sorry, but she does like talking to people.’
I gave an uncertain little laugh and replied, ‘That’s all right,’ then trying to overcome my awkwardness went on, ‘She’s very pretty isn’t she.’
I had the feeling that my tongue should have been torn out. Looking at the child, I could see that she was the miniature image of her mother. Another fifteen or sixteen years and she would have the same loveliness that must have once been her mother’s. The mother did not seem troubled by my comment, and replied, ‘Yes, I think so.’
We exchanged a few more general comments about the beach and the fine weather, then I excused myself and walked on. The little girl called after me: ‘Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow?’
‘Yes, perhaps you will,’ I called back, giving what I hoped was a friendly wave of the hand.
It took a full hour to walk to the headland. I stood watching the massive ocean rollers come crashing in to send great fountains of spray up the cliff. Again, I meditated on the beauty and harshness of nature, the one so often intermingled with the other.
When I returned to the hotel, it was time for the evening meal. After changing, I went to the dining room.
Oddly, after my uneasiness about meeting them on the beach, I found myself hoping I might see the lady of the balcony and her daughter. Most of the residents looked to be in their sixties and seventies. I was twenty- four, and the lady of the balcony seemed nearest to my age, possibly about twenty-eight or nine.
I felt a twinge of regret when they did not show up by the time I had finished.
That evening, the hotel was screening a film in the recreation area, so I decided to go along. Again, I hoped my pair might turn up, but they didn’t. The film I found to be a combination of violence and nauseating sentimentality. I left about half way through.
Walking out onto the front entrance of the hotel, I noticed there was a full moon just rising to shine across the water, catching the ripples so as to make them seem alive with flashing fire. The thought of fire brought with it thought of my lady. With that thought came the sound of the child Karin’s voice. She came up the steps to the hotel entrance toward me, chattering away to her mother.
When seeing a person in full light and view we are so often taken up with their physical appearance, we fail to appreciate other aspects of them. Now, in the dim light, I noticed my lady’s voice as she responded to her daughter. It was one of the most beautifully modulated voices I had ever heard. It was not, as some ‘well articulated’ voices are, contrived. It flowed freely and rhythmically. ‘A voice one could live with,’ I thought.
Karin saw me and began without preamble, ‘Mummy and I have just been to a lovely place for dinner. It’s much better than the hotel. We’re going there again tomorrow. I think you should come with us…Mummy, he can come, can’t he?’
‘Darling, you can’t just invite people like that. They might not want to come, and then you’ve made it hard for them to say no.’
She seemed more at ease in the dim light as she turned to me, ‘I really must apologise for my daughter, once again. She’s so enthusiastic about the restaurant we’ve been to, she wants to share it with everyone.’
‘No apology needed,’ I replied. ‘I think it’s rather lovely of her to want to share. By the way, I’m Peter Holbrook.’
She hesitated for a moment as if not sure she should r
eveal her name, then said, ‘I’m Angel Robbart, but as I don’t always live up to my name I’m generally called ‘Angie’. My daughter is Karin, as I expect you already know.’
We shook hands. The touch of her soft warm hand sent a quiver of pleasure racing through me. I felt a little flustered at my reaction and muttered something like, ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Well,’ said Angie, ‘I must put the little one to bed, good night. Say goodnight to Mr.Holbrook, Karin.’
‘Goodnight, Mr.Holbrook. Mummy says we can go swimming in the morning if the weather’s nice. Will you come with us?’
‘We’ll see. Goodnight, Karin.’
They departed for their room, leaving me to contemplate the open-heartedness of little children, and the strange effect the mother was having on me.
If Angie was no ‘Angel’, I was not to be classified among the saintly ones either. I would like to have brought a girl with me to share my prize, but found myself to be between girlfriends, and hadn’t fancied a casual lover who came along for the trip and not for me. Casual sex was not foreign to me, but normally consisted of one-night stands. The thought of having one female around for the whole week did not appeal. I had the idea that I might pick up something in the hotel, or perhaps in the town, but a brief survey of the scene did not give me grounds for optimism.
Angie was the only woman roughly in my age bracket. If she had possessed the stunning beauty that must have once been hers, I would probably have been too overwhelmed by it to try anything with her. I would have assumed that she would be after more worthwhile prey than a hard up physics student.
As it was, her disfigurement…well…! My thoughts rambled on, ‘I wonder where Mr.Robbart is…always assuming there is a Mr.Robbart…Of course there is, she…That’s strange! Why do I want there to be a Mr.Robbart?
I mentally shrugged and decided it was time for bed. The sea air sent me quickly into a deep sleep. If I dreamed, I have no recall of it.
I woke to a room bright with the morning sun. Though an open window I heard Karin’s excited voice speaking from their balcony, ‘Mummy, it’s a lovely day. The sun’s shining. We can go swimming, can’t we?’ I didn’t hear Angie’s reply, but remembered I had received an invitation from Karin to join them in their swim.
I had intended to spend the day following one of the tracks into the rain forest that seemed to head for the low hills at some distance from the hotel. I tossed up in my mind whether to keep to my plan, or accept Karin’s invitation.
I had just about made up my mind to head for the hills, when I heard Karin’s voice again, ‘Will Mr.Holbrook be coming with us? Can I go and ask him?’ I heard Angie’s voice in reply, but her words were indistinguishable. Karin did not come knocking at my door.
I retraced my mental steps and decided that as Karin seemed to value my presence, I would join her on the beach. I breakfasted in the dining room and then went back to my room to put on my bathing trunks.
I had half expected to see Karin and her mother in the dining room, but they did not appear. I went out onto the balcony to try to see if they had already gone to the beach, and spotted two figures that resembled them just entering the water. I put on a beach coat and made for the sea.
My assumption that the two figures were Karin and Angie proved correct. They were both splashing about in the water as I arrived.
Karin spotted me and raced out of the water to greet me. Untrammeled by the inhibitions that hold most adults in their grasp, she took my hand saying, ‘Come on, Mr.Holbrook, mummy’s swimming,’ and dropping my beach coat beside their things, I was impelled towards the water.
Angie stayed at a distance from me, so for about half an hour I played with Karin, having to respond repeatedly to her pleas, ‘On your shoulders again.’ This meant I had to heave her up to stand on my shoulders, from where she would leap in a sort of limb waving dive.
By the end of the half-hour, Karin was beginning to shiver a bit. Angie was some distance off so on my own initiative I carried Karin back to the beach to the place where they had left their things.
I dropped down and began to dry myself in the sun. Karin dried herself with a towel, and we waited for Angie to emerge.
Angie remained in the water so long I began to get anxious, and was on the point of going to see if all was well, when she emerged.
I felt my stomach lurch as I looked at her. She was superb. Clad only in a bikini, her figure was beyond anything I could ever recall seeing – even in artificially posed and computer manipulated magazine photographs. One word escaped under my breath, ‘lovely.’
At this point, I should write that I felt my manhood rise, or words to that effect. If I did, it would be a lie. My sexual appetite was overcome by another sensation. What can I call it? Compassion?
I considered myself a hardened agnostic, but in that moment found myself silently crying out to the God whose existence I questioned.
‘Why? Why make something so exquisite, only to mar it?’ My doubted God gave me no answer.
Angie approached us in a way designed to keep her scarred profile away from me. I saw her pulling her wet hair over the left side of her face to cover it as best she could. Sitting, she made sure I could see only her unmarked profile. My heart went out to her.
Karin was now demanding my attention. ‘Play ball with me, please.’
‘Darling, Mr.Holbrook may want to rest.’
This was too much for my male ego. I decided I must demonstrate my male virility, so leaping up I said, ‘No, that’s fine. Come on Karin.’
The little creature nearly wore me out chasing after the beach ball all morning and rushing back into the sea for ‘Just one more swim, Mr.Holbrook.’
Lunchtime came as a relief. I could have a rest. I said, ‘It’s time to eat,’ and Angie replied, ‘Karin and I will be along soon.’
Karin asked, ‘Will you come back to the beach after lunch?’
It was too late to take my walk towards the hills, but I had decided to take a walk along the beach to the other arm enclosing the bay and its headland, and I said so.
‘Can I come, Mr.Holbrook. Please let me come with you…please.’
‘Perhaps Mr.Holbrook want’s to be on his own, Darling.’
‘No, that’s all right, but it’s a long way.’
‘Suppose we walk part of the way with Mr.Holbrook, Karin?’
‘Yes, yes please.’
We fixed a time to start the walk and I returned to the hotel.
We met after lunch and began our walk. Angie had obviously gone to considerable trouble to dress her hair so as to cover the scars as much as possible. We walked for nearly an hour, and with still some distance to go, Angie said, ‘I think this is far enough for us, Karin.’
Karin protested volubly: ‘Just a bit farther, mummy, please.’
‘I can’t, darling.’
‘Can’t I just go with Mr.Holbrook, mummy?’
Angie looked wary. The thought, ‘Is he a child molester?’ seemed to exude from her.
I decided to take the bit between my teeth.
‘Angie, you can see all the way along the beach. I’ll take her with me, and we can turn back if she tires. We won’t be out of your sight.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m sure that you wouldn’t…you read such things and…if anything happened to her…’
‘It’s all right. I understand. I’ll do whatever you want.’
‘Yes, she can go with you.’
Karin took my hand and we set off again. I made sure that we were always where Angie could see us.
We did not reach the headland. For all her enthusiasm, Karin began to wilt. I turned back, and before long, I was carrying the little thing in my arms. I had never carried a child before, and was surprised how, for all her energy, she felt so frail and light.
Arriving back where Angie was waiting, we commenced the hike back to the hotel.
By the time we reached it, Karin was asleep in my arms.
Carrying the child had a curious effect on me. Call it sloppy sentimentality if you wish, but I felt protective.
We went up to the room they occupied and I lay Karin on her bed.
Their arrangement was different to mine. Whereas mine was a single room with a double bed, they had two rooms, one a sort of dining and sitting room, the other a bedroom with a double and single bed. The single bed was Karin’s.
Angie thanked me for the afternoon and my care of Karin, and invited me to join them at the little restaurant Karin had waxed enthusiastic about the previous day. I declined the invitation.
I think it was the protective feeling I had felt for Karin that warned me. ‘You’re starting to get involved, my boy,’ I told myself. I didn’t like it.
Here was I, with just one week in this place, no woman to fuck, and doing nothing about it except play nursemaid to a child and feel sorry for the mother. ‘Not good enough,’ I told myself. ‘Get out and see if you can find some local wench who for a few drinks would occupy your bed for an hour or two.’
I showered and dressed in a manner I thought appropriate to the seeker after a temporary female mate. After eating in the dining room, I went to the one and only pub in the nearby little town.
Local fishermen propped up the bar. Half a dozen aged tourists sat drinking beer and brandy and dry. The nearest thing to a potential sexual object was the barmaid, who, I conjectured, had long ago ceased to be a maiden, was about forty-five years of age, and, as I learned, was the wife of the hotel owner. I was grateful for this discovery because when the husband appeared he seemed to be about seven feet tall and built like a heavy weight boxer, at least, that’s how he looked to me.
I hung about in the pub for an hour, downing several pints of beer, hoping some local talent might turn up. It didn’t. Despairing of gaining a sexual partner for the evening, I made my way somewhat erratically, back to the hotel.
Not being especially alert, I failed to see Angie and Karin as they approached the hotel from the opposite direction. They were upon me and Karin was chattering before I had time to take evasive action.
‘Will you come swimming again tomorrow, Mr.Holbrook. Mummy says she’d like you to because you’re a very nice man…’
‘Karin!’ Angie broke in.
‘Can’t come swimming tomorrow, kid. Got other things to do. Night…’
I fumbled my way to my room, flopped on the bed and went into an alcoholic sleep.
Like many alcoholic sleeps it did not last the night through. I woke about 2 a.m. with a headache and a mouth feeling as if it was lined with sandpaper. I got off the bed and got a drink of water, went to the toilet, and in an attempt to make myself feel human, had a shower.
Feeling slightly improved I got into the bed and attempted to go to sleep. Sleep would not come, but the memory of my words to Karin did. The very thought made me try to hide under the covers, but the memory pursued me there.
‘You rotten bastard,’ I told myself, ‘You couldn’t even tell her nicely that you wouldn’t go swimming. You spoke to her like a lout. That’s what you are, a stinking, drunken lout. You’re not fit to mix with children.’
Having castigated myself sufficiently, I found a more rational frame of mind intruding. If Angie had detected my inebriated condition, she would probably have nothing more to do with me, and she certainly wouldn’t want Karin to be around me. So, that was that. I would probably get my wish and they’d avoid me.
I have heard it said that we should ‘be careful what we wish for, we might get it.’ If I had wished for Angie and Karin to avoid me, now the thought that I might get my wish, seemed to depress me.
Why?
If you like put it down to those dark hours of the morning, when the terrors of the night come upon us and all seems gloom. Never the less, there was substance in the melancholy that beset me.
Visions of my happy playing with Karin and walking holding her little hand floated before me. Then came a picture of Angie emerging from the sea. I had use the word ‘lovely’ at the time. Now that adjective seemed inadequate – but what to put in its place? I gave up and drifted off to sleep.
Kierra
- 03.05.2022
- 14
- 0
