World Cup Sexual Frustration

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Stalker Part 1

“Crazy things happen on vacation.” At least, that was my lousy friends’ excuse for ditching me on the third day of our two week vacation in Ses Illetes, Spain. Lovely. “Thank you so much for understanding. I swear I’ll be back by 10 so we can still have a girl’s night out.” She said, itching to run to the man standing behind her, the one she had met a scant 16 hours ago. I understand that we are in a different country, and that the men are multitudes hotter here, but what happened to chicks before dicks? Whatever. “Yeah, no, go out, have fun! God knows you need it. You have your key?” I asked. She held up a grey plastic hotel room key. She was practically jumping with eagerness to leave. “Right here.” “Okay, honey, see you when I see you.” I said as she gave me a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of me. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou so much. You know I need this.” “I do. It’s okay. Now get out of here.” “Bye!” she said before running off toward that man I didn’t even know. Hell, she barely knew him, but after what happened to her back home, who could blame her.

Same old story: together for years, she thinks he’s about to propose, but instead finds out he has been cheating on her. Not part of the same old story? Cheating on her with her sister. Lovely. So I brought her out of her grey depression to the beautiful beaches of Spain, hoping this would give her some life again. And lo and behold, my plan worked. The only thing I didn’t count on was the leaving-me-alone-at-the-beach-while-she-hops-on-the-motorcycle-of-some-hot-native part.

Anyway, it’s 10 am in lovely, sunny Spain, and I am just gonna catch some sun. So there. To paraphrase Britney Spears, I will not let my loneliness kill me no more. So I slip on my bathing suit, grab a book and my shades, and head for the beach.

After about an hour of sunbathing, reading some light chick-lit novel I threw in my luggage, and innumerable frozen margaritas (hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere), I decided it was time for a dip in the water. My joints ached slightly as I sat up, my body not wanting to leave the comfort of lazing about. As I reached for the sunblock I had placed on the table beside my chair, I connected with a pair of eyes that seemed to be watching me from afar. About five chairs down, a man was watching me. I froze, not really sure what to do. His gaze, just kind of, well, froze me. He had golden mane atop a perfectly, greekgod-like chiseled face, soft looking lips curved to one side, his blue eyes stabbing right through my chest, eyes bluer than the ocean to my left, and the fact that he was shirtless didn’t detract from his looks. He was built, tall and lean. His arms looked strong, his elbows resting on his knees. He seemed absolutely shameless of the fact that I had caught him staring. But maybe he wasn’t staring at me. Is there someone behind me? I jerked around both ways. Everyone behind me was pretty far away. It was like it was just us there. When I turned back to him, he was giggling. Was he laughing at me? Wait, think about this rationally: you are in a strange, new country, presently alone, with a possible stalker in sight. Lovely. I turned away and just grabbed my sunscreen, pretending to ignore him, even though I could still feel his eyes on me. Maybe putting on sunscreen while knowing someone is watching isn’t the best idea. When I looked back he was gone. Good. At least now I could swim without the fear of being stalked.

As I emerged from the water after feeling hungry (my breakfast consisted of toast and butter. Yes, this was a lavish resort, but I thought my friend I were going to embark on a magical tour of the town, trying new food and whatnot. But whatever), I looked up to my chair to see my stalker set up camp in the one beside mine, apparently sleeping, his hands behind his head, his eyes closed, contentment across his face. He was quite hot….but no! Potential stalker! Be careful! So, I cautiously approached my chair, as if nothing were wrong, and I slowly packed up my belongings, and planned my shower and lunch in my head. I should’ve known he was faking sleep. I could feel him watching me as I walked away. I swear I even heard a chuckle.

Sitting outside after hitting the lunch buffet, about to dig into my wonderful pickings of an assortment of tapas, jamon, and a side salad (guilt from all the meat), I forced myself to let go of everything that was worrying me back home, and soon, I was as high as a cloud. But then my cloud was brought down by some heavy rain off to my right. I could feel him staring again. Whenever he stared it felt as though he were….undressing me with his eyes. I felt kinda violated here. His eyes just pierce right into my chest, burying them there, never coming out. Those icy blue eyes….no! Stalker! Stop it! I looked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was just setting his food down a couple of tables away. Are you kidding me? I hurried through my meal and left the table, feeling his eyes on me AGAIN as I walked away. This has to stop. Next time I see him, I will confront him. Until then, I will be working up the nerve to confront him.

Spending the rest of my day in the balcony over the water, reading and sleeping, it was now time for dinner. I had put thoughts of that man behind, absolutely confident that I could tell him to fuck off. I slipped into a lazy, silky dark purple dress and gold sandals, and set off for dinner on the beach.

The tables were set out on the sand, the area lit by paper lanterns and tiki torches. I grabbed a small table, and left to get my food.

The dinner was proceeding smoothly. No sign of Mr. Stalker, and I was having a pleasant chat with some of the other tourists, also, coincidentally, from America: a nice old couple on their anniversary, and a cool businesswoman out for a little break. It was when I hit dessert that I saw him. I was going back for some chocolate mousse when I saw him standing there. And I didn’t see him as some creepy stalker, at first I didn’t even recognize him. He stood with the light behind him, shadowing his features a bit. He seemed very strong and well built. He wore a dark blue button down, the perfect complement to his angelic head of hair, he lazily left the top three buttons undone, and creamy drawstring pants. I was frozen again. I couldn’t exactly see his face, but I knew he saw me. I knew he knew I was staring. And this time….I wanted him to. I wanted him to be visually undressing me. I let my knees go weak. I let him take my breath. He could have it, if I could just look at him for a while. I could feel heat rising to my cheeks and ears, and, to my surprise, in my….lower regions. I swallowed and hurried to the dessert station. Once there, I found my shaking hands picking up a chocolate mousse. Why were they shaking? I thought as I shadow overtook my right side. Oh shit. “Hello.” Said the deep, accent twinged voice. I looked up startled by his height and, in general, his presence. “I—” was all I could get out before I practically ran back to my table. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. I thought I was prepared to tell him off! Why was he so handsome? I could barely continue to converse with my tablemates. I kept looking over at his table. Now I was being the stalker as he pretended to ignore me, while I watched him over my shoulder. As soon as I finished, I excused myself, and headed for the bathrooms.

As I walked down the long hall to the bathrooms, feeling like a complete, confused idiot, my arm was practically pulled out of its socket from behind me. Next thing I knew this man had me between him and the wall, his strong arms baring me from escaping. He hunched over to level his face just slightly higher than mine. With his face so close, I could see every smile line, the perfectly pink tint of his lips, the cool blue of his eyes, and the halo of gold surrounding his head. He was so close. “I have been watching you all day,” “I’ve noticed.” I said, trying to inject it with authority, but it just came out cracked, high pitched, and nervous. Wonderful. “Have you, now?” “Y-yes. Why were you watching m-me?” I asked with a gulp. Breathing was becoming difficult. “If you do not know the answer to that, then I don’t know how you get up every morning.” “W-what the hell’s that supposed to mean?” “It means that you are beautiful. I could not tear my eyes away from you.” He said as he continued to demonstrate this fact. His eyelids drooping, his voice deep in his throat as he fully appraised me. I could feel his eyes taking in the whole of me, and I mean all of me. “Well, knock it off. Y-you seem like some crazy-stalker-person, and it’s making me uncomfortable. Please let me go now.” I said, my voice repeatedly cracking against my will, the volume hardly ever rising above a whisper. Well, that sure sounded threatening. He chuckled and it sounded like honey. “Make me.” So I pushed my hands against his wide, sturdy chest. And he didn’t budge one. Damn. Inch. He laughed some more. “Well, it seems you cannot resist me.” “You think you’re being funny? How would you feel, trying to have a nice solitary day at the beach with someone watching you the whole time?” “If that person were you, carina, I would have no problems.” Oh my God. His smile wasn’t helping. He was so handsome. He looked like Michelangelo ‘s “David.” “That’s not the point. I want you to apologize.” I said, finally getting my balls back, if little by little. “Fine. I am sorry I was admiring you the whole day.” He said cheekily. “No no no no no. You are not off the hook that easily.” “If you want, I could make it up to you in kind.” He said slowly pressing the length of his body against me. If it was hard breathing before, it was surely impossible now. My blood was just rushing all over the place. I could hear it in my ears, my cheeks were burning, my….lower regions, throbbing, aching. “Oh, fuck you!” “Please.” He begged, his voice low and throaty, as he slammed into me, sandwiching me between him and the wall, and the next thing I know, he’s kissing me. Kissing me hard, forcefully, but his lips were so soft. His strong hands held me to him like a metal clamp. I was absolutely incapable of releasing his hold on me. Not that I wanted to. His hands roamed freely, as if I had given him permission to do so. With one hand just tickling my lower back, the other was right between my shoulder blades. He ran his thumb up and down my spine, and as if it were a reflex, I melted into him like butter on a summer day. I tiptoed as much as I could, wrapping my arms around his neck. I’d pretty much lost all control at this point. And when that thought hit me, the following one said “Hold the phone! You don’t even know his name! Or anything about him for that matter.” But that second part was drowned out by his moans trying to get my lips back after I had recalled them. I managed to fit in, between gulps of air and stifles of moans brought on by his inappropriate gropage, “Wait, I don’t even know your name. And you don’t even know mine.” My fingers were still running through his hair while he tried to bring any coherent thought to the surface of his mind. He cleared his throat before answering with (and not without a breathy Spanish accent, I might add) “Well, my name is Fernando Llorente. Y tu?”

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  1. roguedarkholme reblogged this from worldcupsexualfrustration and added:
    A story titled after all of its readers. Perfection, thy name is “Stalker Part 1”.
  2. mexicanprincessbrienne reblogged this from worldcupsexualfrustration and added:
  3. worldcupsexualfrustration posted this