Chapter 11
It's morning. The bright sun is streaming in through the glass wall to the balcony. I can see birds circling above the forest and the sound of the falls enters through the gap between the sliding doors. I look sideways at my new love. She's just lying there átono, her black silk robe spread out around her beautiful naked torso like a pond, as if she's floating on black water. She is so beautiful. I would like to see her reproducido as a sculpture, posed just like this, maybe in ivory and ebony. Her breasts are low white hills, each capped with a pink cairn marking is summit, overlooking the convex down of her tummy.
Twice during the night I've fallen asleep, thinking we were finished, only to feel her hands or mouth me excita again.
I'm almost deaf on one side! In her passion she's been screaming her excitement into my ear.
I wonder how much other people in the hotel can hear? They must certainly be aware that she enjoyed herself. Could they tell how she was using me, to orgasmo like that while she demanded, like those other Olympians: "Faster! Higher! Stronger!"?
I suppose a good hotel like this has special sound deadening? Or have the other guests and staff become oblivious to periodic screams of passion, and cries of obscenity? Such screams from this suite began soon after we arrived yesterday afternoon; and I've lost count of them since.
"One last time before I call for breakfast," she suggests and we go for it again.
"You're increíble... insaciable," I groan as I fall onto my back.
But Diana's frowning deeply, as if there's something the matter. There were no yells of passion. Less of a bang than a whimper this time.
"Wasn't I good enough for you?" I ask, expecting her to contradict me.
But she just shrugs. Obviously, it wasn't high or fast or strong enough. I've failed in my quest to mount Olympus.
"Well, that was the best I could do so soon. And with almost no sleep!" I grumble angrily, climbing off the bed.
I head for the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower... " I shout back over my shoulder, pausing at the bathroom door to look back at the scene of our debauchery, our Sodom and Gomorrah. And like Lot's wife, I find myself transfixed.
Standing on the bed and smiling at me invitingly Diana is lifting her arms, spreading her gown.
She drifts across the room, as if now in flight, still holding my gaze.
On her way she collected her lipstick from the consol and twists it to propel its phallic scarlet cartucho. Her sensuous mouth is parted as she touches the tip to her lips. I continue to watch from the doorway as, reflected in the big wall mirror, she applies the colour, contorting su boca, seductively, still holding me with her eyes as one hand slides down, opening her gown, her fingers now exploring her womanhood.
The mesmerising effect of this performance is intensifica by the bright scarlet of her lips.
My earlier annoyance has drained away. I'm captivated by her yet again. She's fallen back onto the sofa, gown spread wide, smiling slightly, both hands now caressing, her eyes holding my rapt attention, the tip of her pale tongue emerging slowly between, freshly scarlet, lips.
Very slowly her legs are separating towards me, her hands still working their magic on me. A rush of desire suffuses my body. I need to have her again.
"No!" she stops me before I can advance. "I want you to perform for me over there."
"Put your hands down like this. Show me how much you like me."
She's still touching herself with one hand. The other has risen to her mouth. She's sucking her fingertips to my rhythm. Her eyes are twinkling.
"Use both hands," she insists, as her fingers move faster. I respond.
Suddenly I succumb to her erotismo. I haven't got much left. But my whole body shakes violently with the 'little death' and I fall back against the door frame.
She emits a bray of victory: "Ha! Ha! You're so easy! That took exactly one minute and 59 seconds." she says scornfully, breaking the spell.
"What a wanker you are! Don't you feel ashamed of yourself, letting me make you do that. You should have seen yourself jerking off from over here. You're pathetic. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud."
I realise that the whole scene was a nasty practical joke. She's mocking me, laughing at how easily she aroused me again, then made me do that for her!
"Go and have your shower! And while you're in there see if you can do better than that pathetic excuse for an ejaculation, like a good little masturbador!... I can tell you've had plenty of experience in a shower. Would you like a washcloth? You're such a washout!" she adds, giggling at her silly joke.
As she laughed at me, I felt my anger rising again. Now I'm furious. Where does she get off, burlándose de mi hombría, mocking my manhood, like that!
I'm screaming obscenities at her. I'm beside myself with anger.
She's just laughs, delightedly. I feel like strangling her. But I find that I'm scared of her. She's so superior. Instead, I go into the bathroom and petulantly turn on the water.