Chapter 2: Tossa del Mar

We flew into Barcelona on the 26th May. We had booked a week at a hotel at Tossa del Mar, a small coastal village about 25 miles to the north of the city. A car from the hotel met us at the airport and as we drove along the coast road I understood why the area was called 'The Costa Brava', The Rugged Coast. Tossa del Mar had escaped the over-development suffered by other coastal villages as it did not have the large beaches of the Costa Blanca or Costa del Sol. Instead, the small secluded coves, with their steep rocky paths as access, kept both the 18-30 Club hedonists and sun-seeking pensioners away. However it was on the small beach at Tossa that before my eyes Miriam turned from a shy English supermarket worker into a suntanned, sexy, voluptuous man magnet.

My mother may well have been correct in ascribing gypsy blood to Pa Hodge, as Miriam developed a glorious golden skinned tan in the space of a few days. As a typical Anglo Saxon; blond hair, blue eyes and fair skin, I went from dead fish belly white, through flaming scarlet, to a dappled peeling dull red and white.

I'd never seen Miriam in a bikini before. Our honeymoon had been a week at Southend-on-Sea [or on- Mud, depending on the state of the tide] in mid-September, not a place, nor a time, where bikinis would be worn. In Spain she blossomed; her figure, now nicely toned by regular gym workouts, was naturally on the voluptuous side, and her small stature made her breasts look even bigger than they were (and they were already a very good handful each). These assets, coupled with her small waist and swelling hips, made her resemble a pocket Venus. Wrap that sun-kissed hour glass body in a brief, practically riot-causing bikini, and you had one highly desirable woman. And she was mine.

Previously I have referred to Miriam as being solemn. Her smile, which could be radiant, was seldom seen in Plaistow but in Tossa it was displayed often, with a devastating effect on the local males. They would hang around her, taking her dark hair, brown eyes, and golden skin as Spanish, paying her many flowery and flattering compliments. She didn't understand a word they said but knew, as any woman does, what an effect she was having on them, and her smile bathed them in pleasure.

We had been at the hotel three days, making love during the warm nights, the windows open to catch any slight breeze. It was a satisfying if not a particularly soul shaking variety of love making, something like that which long married couples might indulge in. It came as a shock to realise that Miriam and I had been married for over 7 years, and that in fact September would be our eighth year of wedded bliss.

However, next day on the little beach of Tossa del Mar, I fell madly in lust with my wife, and our love making became volcanic. It had started out much the same as previous days on this holiday; a lingering continental breakfast followed by a stroll around the village, and finally arrival on the beach dressed in our beach wear. Miriam wore a terry cloth beach robe over her bikini as she would have caused a traffic accident walking around without some sort of covering.

Miriam had gone in swimming; she was a very good swimmer (plenty of buoyancy) and I sat in a shaded deck chair reading up on the march that Black Bob Craufurd's Light Brigade had made from Oroposa to Talavera on July 28-29 1809. The Light Brigade, with the 95th in the fore, had marched 42 miles in 26 hours over a parched landscape during the height of a Spanish summer carrying full kit. OK, so that works out at less than two miles an hour, but remember, no one, not even the SAS, will march continually for 26 hours, and add to that the fact that the uniforms worn by the British Army at that time were made of wool. Also add in the fact that they were short of water, and then see how you would do under the same conditions.

I don't know what it was that made me look up, but I did just as Miriam was coming out of the sea. It was like watching Aphrodite rising from the waves, or Ursula Andress's scene in 'Doctor No', a beautiful sexy woman walking out of the surf, pushing back her long hair, and in so doing causing her magnificent breasts almost to spill out of her bikini top. As Miriam pulled at the bottom of her bikini to fit it more snugly around her buttocks I was struck with an overpowering sense of pure unadulterated lust. My erection went from 0-60 in a second and I hurriedly threw a towel over my groin unless I was had up for indecent exposure.

Miriam must have caught the waves of lust I radiated because she looked up, gave me a grin of pure devilment and then ran over to me, her bouncing breasts catching the attention of every red-blooded male on the beach. She stood before me and I could see she was turned on by what she saw in my eyes (and by what was showing under the towel). Swiftly throwing her robe over her wet bikini, she grabbed my hand and we made a hasty exit off the beach.

Back in our room I quickly got out of my tee shirt and shorts, kicked off my flip flops and fell on her; she already had her robe off and I attempted to undo the bikini ties at her hips, the bloody things were wet and I couldn't manage.

"Leave it to me!" Miriam's nimble fingers fiddled with the knots and her bikini bottom slid to the floor. I knelt before her and savoured her honey pot, letting my fingers brush her mound and my tongue tentatively tasted her outer lips. She giggled.