Author: admin

It was 2 pm on a beautiful fall day—the first Friday in October. I was walking across the plaza to the coffee shop for my usual afternoon latte. Having graduated the previous May with a Bachelor’s in Library Science, I was now working at The Book Nook, a new and used bookstore owned by Charles (never say Charlie) Smoak.

I saw my future as being the curator of one of the more well-known private collections, but to get there I needed at least a Masters, if not a Ph.D. Due to my lack of money, I’d settled for the job at Charlie’s (I only called him that once) while I took courses as I could afford them.

Besides my career situation, I’d faced up to the fact that, even with my undeniably sexy attributes, I was a confused, nerdy girl. Having lost my virginity during a frat house party in my freshman year to Freddy something (it was very unremarkable, disappointing even), I went on to flings with other guys. It’d left me in a mental, sexual wasteland. The female friends that I’d accumulated talked with glee about their sexual adventures with this or that guy. I always smiled, agreeing how wonderful it was, all while thinking about how attracted I was to them, my fem friends that is.

I’d never acted on those feelings. Mostly because I didn’t know how, and was afraid of rejection. So I just continued to live in my sexual never-never-land as I somewhat blissfully masturbated my way to daily satisfaction and had the occasional, not really interesting or satisfying, date with just another guy.

As I made my daily visit to the coffee shop, I noticed Marie, the owner of Canvas Dreams, an art gallery on the plaza. She always sat by herself, enjoying her daily espresso. I’d never spoken with her, even though I’d often wanted to. She seemed like everything I wasn’t. Her hair was always perfectly coiffed, her makeup immaculate, her clothes beautifully coordinated and, to my simple eyes, seemingly designer-produced. I guessed she was in her late forties or early fifties.

I straightened my posture to accent my attractive physique, determined that today would be the day I talked with Marie. Meanwhile, the machine hissed and steamed my latte to its usual perfection. Picking it from the counter where the Barista had left it, a big “K” scrawled on its side, I walked to her table.

“May I?” I asked with my hand on a chair. It was a small table, designed only for two.

“S’il vous plaît, chéri,” she answered, flicking her hand.

Smiling and thankful for the French courses I’d taken, I pulled out the chair saying, “Merci, I’m Kerri. I work at the Book Nook.”

“I’ve noticed you before. I’m Marie, owner of the gallery.” She waved her hand it its general direction.

I already felt a bit foolish. I’d worked at the Nook for four months and didn’t even know she was French. Just her accent and very brief interchange made my heart speed up.

“So Chéri, I’m sorry we haven’t talked before. You seem quite private, as am I, so we’ve avoided meeting, conversing, n’est pas? Sorry, yes?”

“I guess that’s true,” I answered. “I’ve wanted to, but always felt… well, the truth is I’m shy and you seem so worldly and sophisticated. I didn’t think we’d have anything in common, but really hope we do.”

“Maybe more than you think, but that is yet to be known. It is as much me as you. I’m not timid, as you say, but I respect the privacy of others—plus I’m older. You’re young and attractive, I’m sure you either have a boyfriend or they are chasing you, n’est pas?”

I laughed to myself, thinking how I already wanted to feel her touch. “No. No boyfriend or pending ones. I’m somewhat adrift in that regard. Romance, sex… they have yet to find me in a meaningful way. If that makes sense?”

“Ah! Dis-le n’est pas, Chéri. A woman your age has needs, desires that must be fulfilled. Not all that long ago, I like to think anyway, I was your age. Those desires still abound. You must be quite frustré, frustrated, yes?”

I laughed and slightly waved my hand. “Oh, I take care of my frustré as you say. They do exist, but I make do,” I said with a chuckle. Then glancing at my watch I realized that time had passed quickly. I needed to get back to the store. “I’m sorry Marie, but I need to get back. I’ve really enjoyed our chat. Sorry we didn’t meet long ago. Maybe we can continue in the future, n’est pas, as you say?”

“It’s been a pleasure! Certainement, we must. So, it’s Friday. Any plans tonight?”

I’m sure I looked disappointed. “Not really. I have a book I’m enjoying and I have Randy, my dog.”

“Chéri, you must come to the store after work. I’ll put out some charcuterie. We’ll drink some wine, and talk more.”

“You live at the store?”

“Non. I have a house outside the city, but I have a small area on the store’s second floor where I stay when I don’t feel like driving home. I also store paintings there, as well as in the basement. It is more than equal to our needs.”

“Thank you! My mouth is already watering. We close at six, so just after that?”

“Perfect. We close at five so everything will be ready when you arrive. I’m so happy you chose to sit today. It’s been a pleasure, Chéri. I’m looking forward to knowing more about you,” she said with a thoughtful look.

There was a new spring in my step as I walked back to the store. Wishing I had time to shower and change into something more appealing than my work-appropriate jeans and blouse, I raised an arm and had a sniff, at least I only smelled of old books. Charlie had a small but profitable section of old, rare books that I often had to arrange and rotate stock.

Time clicked by slowly. I don’t know what I expected, at least not for sure. The short meeting with Marie had captivated me, made me want to know her better. The real question was what exactly did “know” and “better” mean. I guessed she was twenty-plus years my senior. Could have been my mother—I laughed at that thought.

I was not naive in my thoughts about other women, I’d just refused to accept, or, heaven forbid, act on them. I’d tried to chalk it up to my fervent desire to visit her store, plus her being French and my Francophile inclinations, thinking that it would connect me closer to my goal of traveling there. Somewhere inside I knew that was a false narrative, but I just couldn’t admit, at least fully admit, that I was physically, and probably mentally, attracted to her.

With only minutes to go until 6 pm, I did the only two things I could to prepare: putting on lipstick and taking my hair out of its ponytail, and brushing it into its long, somewhat curly, chestnut brown natural self. The grandfather clock chimed six times. “Good night Charles. See you tomorrow,” I shouted as I went out the door.

One or two minutes later I knocked discreetly on Canvas Dreams’ locked door. Marie quickly appeared and let me in. What a vision she was, barefoot and wearing a silk, multi-colored kimono, her hair now hanging freely like mine.

“Oh Chéri, I somehow knew your hair was lustrous and full. You look positively radiant.” Her ample breasts swayed ever so slightly as she stepped closer and ran a hand through my locks. “Come in, come in. Now I do have this custom that’s reserved for only my close friends. Somehow I feel we’re already good friends, n’est pas?”

Now even more energized, I replied, “Oh yes, I most certainly agree. I felt something special was happening as I first sat at your table.”

“Bon, bon. So, I have this kimono for you to put on.” During my excitement, I hadn’t noticed it. She handed it to me and went on, “So, come upstairs and you can change. Please leave your shoes here.”

She turned quickly and headed for the stairs as I took off my shoes and caught up to her. The second floor was much like many studio apartments I’d seen. She pointed to a curtain hanging in one corner, “Behind the curtain is the toilet area. It will give you privacy to change. Everything must come off. You must feel the silk on your skin—it’s nineteenth-century Japanese, most transformative.“

Now I was enthralled. It seemed like I’d been transported to a different world. I stripped quickly, noticing as I did an obvious wet spot in my panties. I ran a finger between my legs to confirm, sighing softly and smiling as it slid across my clit—thought confirmed.

Donning the kimono focused my thoughts. I did feel different. It probably sounds strange, but I did feel transformed. Was this how Geisha girls felt? I wondered if this had possibly belonged to one so many years ago. I moved the curtain and stepped out.

“Ah Chéri, you are a vision.” She opened her arms as she said, “Come give Marie a hug and we’ll enjoy the wine and charcuterie.”

As I walked the few steps, the silk slid over my hard nipples. My anticipation and those few minutes with her had me more sexually excited than I’d ever been, at least in recent memory. Gliding into her arms, she held me tight, her appreciable breasts pressing into mine. I wasn’t the only one with hard nips. I wondered if she felt mine and what her thoughts were. She ran her hands up my back, spreading her fingers as they coursed through my hair. An orgasm felt just a hair’s breadth away.

Then she pulled back and took my hand. “Come Chéri and taste the wine. It’s a Sancerre from the Loire Valley. Tell me if you like it.”

Oh god, my head was spinning. Her, my thoughts, the silk, being so close, now the wine, what was happening to me? We sat close together on very comfortable cushions. The table was only a few inches high. The wonderful wine was quickly followed by a smear of brie on a sliced baguette. Then a thin wedge of pâté on another baguette slice.

She filled my glass and was about to serve me more cheese when I put my hand on her back. “Marie, this is beyond wonderful, but please, let’s pause. I’m overwhelmed…”

Turning to me, she said, “What is it Chéri? You’re so beautiful. It’s been so long. I only want to make you happy, to ensure you enjoy your evening here.”

The wine had affected me enough to free my emotions. Running my fingers through her hair, I said, “Just tell me how this is going to end. You’ve created very passionate feelings in me that I need to express… to fulfill. I—”

Before I could finish, she pulled me to her. We kissed. Our tongues twisted and probed as our hands ran over each other, finding each other’s nipples. We moaned. The electric, passionate feelings inflamed me further. In due course we separated, but our faces remained inches from each other as our fingers continued to roam.

Before I could speak she said, “Chéri, I’m older than you. I’ve learned to be careful, not to push, to be sure of things. Now that I’m certain, I assure you, all those feelings will be fulfilled—hopefully many times over. I think we should make use of my bed, n’est pas?”

Both relief and excitement flooded through me. “Oh yes Marie. This is wonderful! I should warn you, this will be my first time with another woman. I’m not experienced, but I so want to be.”

She stood and offered me her hand, pulling me up as if I were a child. “Actually Chéri, I suspected that. I’m so delighted you chose me. Over this way.”

I hadn’t seen a bed anywhere when I walked to and from the toilet area. Then I realized, as she reached up and began to pull a cord, it was a Murphy bed. It floated down from the wall, all made up, ready for use.

She let her kimono drop to the floor while motioning me to the bed. I dropped mine and was quickly on my back, hungry with anticipation and desire.

“Let me take the lead Chéri and we’ll go from there.”

“Oh yes. Please do. I want to experience everything you care to show me. I’m yours for the evening.”

With that, we again kissed as her fingers found my yoni. She barely touched me. Her fingers ran around my lips, caressing them, brushing my clit, one finger just slightly dipping into me. If I had buttons to push she knew them all and used them masterfully. I moaned and squirmed, pushing myself up, trying for more contact, but she continued to tease me—delightfully so.

“Oh Marie, I’m so close. Yes, yes… right there, like that. Oh, oh, I’m… oh not again. You’re such a tease.”

“And you love it don’t you Chéri?” I moaned in return. “Tell me Chéri. Tell Marie what you want.”

“I want to cum. I want your fingers in me, deep in me! I love this. You’re so… oh god, yes, like that! Please, please.” That’s when her two middle fingers plunged fully into me. Her palm squeezed against my clit, and she curled those two fingers against my “G” spot. “Fuck yes!” I screamed as my body trembled.

I held her tight as she kept fingering me. Each thrust brought her palm down on my oh so sensitive clit. “Oh god no, no more Marie,” I whimpered. “It’s so sensitive.”

“But we must, Chéri. You know you want it, don’t you? Say stop and I will, but I think you truly want more.”

Of course she was right. Tears of joy were running from my eyes. Every nerve in my body coursed fiery thrills. I whispered, “Yes, I want more, need more. Please… please don’t stop now!” Just then my second orgasm ran through me. The trembling resumed. I totally gave in to her.

After several more trips to the top of the roller coaster and the wild ride down, she relented. I relaxed my grip on her and lay there gasping.

“So Chéri, your first time with another woman was bon?”

I nodded, smiled, and murmured, “I think you could safely say that.”

“Bon, bon,” she said as she slowly pulled her fingers from me and gave them a small lick. “So sweet Chéri. Open.”

I was confused. “Open?” I queried.

“Your mouth, Chéri. You must enjoy yourself. It’s not to be wasted.”

She was so earnest. I was so innocent. It had never occurred to me. My mouth popped open and closed around her fingers as my tongue swirled around them.

“Mmm!” I murmured. She was right. I was sweet. I licked up every drop. “Thank you! Now I want to taste you.”

“Soon,” she said. Then smiling, moved off the bed. “I’m going to retrieve our wine and then it’ll be your turn to be the provocateur. Are you as happy and comfortable as you seem?”

“Oh very! Everything feels so natural and certainly pleasurable.” I laughed a little and continued. “I wish we’d met like this months ago.”

“Well, at least we have now Chéri. I am also very pleased.”

When she returned we sat, sipped, and just chatted for a bit. Some about what had just happened. Then about fashion (something I knew next to nothing about) and my desire to visit France.

As we were talking I had thoughts about being the “provocateur.” I was enormously looking forward to it. She was quite alluring, unconsciously oozing a sexual vibe that created a particularly captivating aura. It made me even more desirous to become the one making her whimper and scream in delight.

I instigated our next round by caressing her nipples and pushing her back on the bed. It wasn’t long before we were kissing as my fingers explored her oh so smooth mound and vag. I resolved that my trimmed garden needed to be as smooth as hers.

Finding that Marie wasn’t alone in the skill of light caresses, I teased with slight brushes and provocations of quick tweaks and flicks. My hand was soon coated in her elixir as she began to moan and sigh. More and more she offered an “Oh Chéri” or “So nice, so good. Please more.”

I was indeed the “provocateur.” I was dominating her—she was submitting to my touch. Another new experience in an evening filled with them.

When her moans turned into pleadings, I didn’t follow her example of the quick, deep thrust. Rather, at first, my two fingers shallowly entered and slowly withdrew, then slowly deeper and deeper. Her upward, quick hip thrusts were easily avoidable. When I finally went fully in and crushed her clit with my palm, I was rewarded with, “Chéri!, Oh Chéri, yes, yes, so perfect. Mon dieu Chéri, je jouis, I’m cumming!”

Her legs shuddered as she held me tight. Curling fingers and more penetrations brought forth more expressions of “je jouis” and other French expressions, until she, like me previously, had her final roller coaster ride.

Then, like her before, I slowly withdrew my fingers and had a small taste of her juice before offering my fingers to her. She greedily took them in and consumed every drop.

“Thank you Chéri. Is this really your first time? You were quite expert. I am très satisfait.”

“Oui, oui,” I replied with the little French I knew. “I’m a good student and you’re a great teacher.”

She later apologized for speaking French in her moments of ecstasy. I chuckled and told her how good everything made me feel, adding that I felt like an enduring special bond was being formed.

“Oui oui, mon amour, certainement.”

We laughed as we cuddled in each other’s arms. I reveled in my “coming out,” as I like to think of it.

Thankfully, it didn’t end there. She went on to introduce me to oral and other joys that another woman can bring and that I learned to bestow. That was five months ago.

I soon became a regular visitor to her “Chateau” outside the city and intimate friends with her niece, Esme, who was visiting for two months. I already have my plane tickets to Paris for June. I’ll be staying with Esme, and may attend the Sorbonne, as Esme does, to achieve my advanced degree and discover where our relationship may take us.

My boyfriend, (let’s call him Tom) and I, (let’s call me Sarah) have been wanting to try something new for a while now to spice up our relationship. Tom knows that one of my fantasies is to be with another woman while he watches, but I have never gone into detail.

I have a Tumblr social media page, which isn’t your ordinary page. It was a profile strictly for re-blogging videos, gifs and pictures of porn and other fantasies that I have. I often scroll through my Tumblr account with my hand down my underwear rubbing my pussy, as seeing all the beautiful women having their bodies toyed with makes me so wet. However, I had a little secret. My secret was that my boyfriend didn’t know this page existed.

One day, I was having my lunch break at work in the office when I heard my phone ring. I looked down at the screen and it was Tom. I answered the phone, a little nervous as it was unusual for him to ring me during the day.

“Hi, love, I need to talk to you”, Tom said.

“Sure, what is it? Is everything ok?” I asked.

“I used your laptop earlier to play my game, and there was a website called ‘Tumblr’ open. I was a bit taken aback. Is everything fine between us? There are quite a lot of videos of lesbian porn”, Tom replied.

“Oh my god. Shit, you were never meant to find that. I made a profile while you were working away in London. I have never been with a woman before, but I can’t lie and say it doesn’t turn me on because it does. I only use it when you’re not here, babe,” I told him, feeling my cheeks burning with embarrassment that I’d been caught.

I did tell Tom a little white lie, though. I do use it while he is at home. I often put in my earphones and have a little play with myself whilst he is on his Xbox in the spare bedroom. He would never hear me anyway as he wears noise-cancelling headphones. I guess it serves him right for not giving me any attention.

“It did shock me, but I’m not angry. I just wish you told me so we could’ve explored this sooner”, Tom said.

Before I had a chance to interject, he continued, “Oh, and er, that story you wrote about your girl-on-girl fantasy made my cock so hard. It’s a shame you’re not here to help me.”

I could hear subtle moans down the phone.

“I’m reading it right now. This story is so fucking hot. The part where I’m sat on the chair in the corner of the room while you’re on the bed sucking a girls’ nipples with your hand down her panties making me watch is so, mmm, sexy,” Tom groaned.

I felt a warmth leave my pussy which dampened my underwear.

“Babe, stop. You’re turning me on at work”, I teased.

“No, you’re going to make me cum just thinking about it. I didn’t know my girl could be so naughty. My cock is so hard for you princess”, Tom said.

My manager walked into the office, locking the door from the inside. Let me tell you, she had the body of a goddess.

“Babe, I’ve got to go, my manager needs to use the office for her meeting. I’ll see you when I finish work at 6 pm. Can you pick me up?” I said, flustered.

“Sure, baby, see you later”, Tom chuckled.

“Everything ok?” my manager, Claire, asked, walking over to me.

“Yes, my partner couldn’t find his wallet. You know what men are like”, I laughed.

“Absolutely, they’re useless in more ways than one”, Claire replied.

I was sitting at her desk on one of those manoeuvrable spinning chairs. She stopped in her tracks behind me and leaned over me.

“If you know what I mean”, she continued, her warm breath on my neck.

The next thing I knew both of her hands had reached around the front of my shirt and squeezed my tits, massaging them. I was only wearing a thin, cotton bra underneath my uniform, which meant my nipples were already hard from her touch.

“Claire, what, what are you doing?” I stuttered.

“Shh, I can tell you’ve been stressed at work, Sarah. I’ve told the others that we’re having a private meeting and for us not to be disturbed, so just relax”, Claire spoke softly so there wasn’t the possibility of being heard.

Claire slowly kissed my neck whilst unbuttoning my shirt, placing one of her hands into my bra, gently teasing my hard nipple. Her touch on my bare skin was electric.

I thought about Tom and how I should put a stop to this immediately. But I didn’t want to.

“Ohhh”, I moaned quietly. Melting into the back of the chair.

Claire pulled down my bra to release both of my tits. She massaged them again, squeezing them together, rolling my nipples between her thumbs and index fingers.

My legs started to spread for her. My skirt rode up my legs and flashed my red, lace panties.

“Hmm, good girl”, Claire smirked.

“Touch me, please”, I begged, guiding her hand to my panties.

Claire didn’t need to be asked twice. She placed her hand on top of my underwear, using two fingers to rub my clit. The lace material felt divine being massaged into my pussy.

“So wet for me”, Claire whispered into my ear, nibbling my ear lobe.

Claire moved my panties to the side and used a finger to tease my pussy, tracing in between my wet folds. Up and down, up and down. She leaned in to kiss me passionately. Two fingers slid into my pussy.

“Oh my god, please fuck me”, I said through short, whimpering moans.

Her fingers thrusted in and out of my pussy. I was so wet. Her hands were like magic. She took her fingers out of my glistening pussy and put them in her mouth for her to taste.

“Mmm, so sweet”, Claire whispered with a grin.

Claire spun the chair round and got on her knees, taking hold of my tits once more. She breathed over them, bringing my nipples to attention.

“Such pretty tits.” Claire smirked.

Claire cupped her hands around my tits, bringing them to her mouth. She flicked my nipple back and forth with her warm tongue. My pussy was now dribbling.

“Play with yourself”, Claire demanded. S

She did the same as before, playing with my nipple in her mouth.

I did as I was told. I rubbed my clit slowly in circles, using two fingers, occasionally dipping a finger into my tight hole before continuing playing with my clit again. My entire body went hot, the wave of an orgasm was fast approaching from my nipple being sucked and my clit being stroked at the same time.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum. Taste me”, I said whilst moaning in pleasure.

There was a knock on the door. It was Claire’s assistant, Charlotte.

“What do you want?” Claire shouted.

“Sorry to disturb your meeting, but your next client is here. It’s 2:00 pm, it is in your diary, I checked this morning”, Charlotte said.

“We’ll be two minutes”, Claire panted.

“Sorry, darling, this meeting is important. Don’t worry, it is with a man, so you’ve got no worries there”, Claire joked.

We both fumbled to get dressed. Luckily, I had all my clothes still on. I only had to do up my buttons on my shirt.

Claire opened the door to let me out.

“Charlotte, hi, can you please schedule a meeting with me and Sarah for 9:00 am tomorrow? We didn’t quite finish.” Claire winked.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Smith, come in and take a seat”, Claire said as she welcomed her client into the office.

I walked down the corridor and signed myself out for the day. I can’t believe what just happened. Despite it being the most turned on I have ever been in my life, I was still needing to cum.

Tom was waiting for me in the car in the usual spot.

“Hi baby”, Tom grinned as I got in the car.

“Hi, my love.” I leaned over and gave him a kiss as I sat myself down.

“You smell so sexy, is that a new perfume?” Tom questioned.

“What, this? No, I’ve had this ages, I just don’t wear it much.”

It was Claire’s perfume that he could smell. Fuck. Did I need to distract him before he questions it again? I thought to myself.

As we were driving home, making small talk about our day, I took his hand, opened my legs and placed it on top of my panties. Tom didn’t need instructing. He knew exactly what to do next. Plus, I was so turned on. I needed to cum from earlier with Claire.

“Mmm Sarah, you’re so fucking wet.” Tom smirked, rubbing his finger on my clit.

I had to come up with an excuse.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you stroking your cock earlier”, I lied. It was somewhat true, but nothing had ever made me as wet or as turned on as Claire had.

“Make me cum baby”, I demanded.

Tom had one hand on the steering wheel. His hand was covered in thick veins from his working out. Thinking about his fingers inside me is enough to make me cum alone.

I held my panties to the side so he could get better access. Tom slipped in two fingers with ease, his hand suctioning to my pussy from how wet it was. His fingers pumped in and out of my drenched pussy, I was in heaven. I pinched my nipples through my shirt as he fucked me with his fingers.

“I’m gonna cum, mmm, keep going”, I pleaded.

Tom curled his two fingers inside me, which flicked my G-spot as he slowly pushed them deeper inside of me. He knows I prefer to be fucked slowly. I like to feel every movement inside of me.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, I moaned.

It was a good job that we were inside the car. Tom slowly took his fingers out of my pussy which left a string of cum. He put them to his mouth to taste.

“I love how good your pussy tastes”, Tom said whilst smirking.

The bar was warm and golden, all soft jazz and dim lights that looked like candle glow through glass. The air buzzed gently — not loud, not wild — just bodies and drinks and stories in the making.
Sienna slipped onto a stool at the far end, shaking off the cold with a deep breath and the flick of her dark curls over one shoulder. She was here to be anonymous. Just a glass of something strong, just a moment of stillness.
But then she walked in.

A woman in a backless dress, high heels clicking softly across the floor, mouth painted a deep, dangerous red. Her hair was a tumble of dark gold, curls framing a face that was more trouble than Sienna had the strength to avoid tonight.
Their eyes met. Just for a moment.
But it changed everything.
The woman gave a half-smile. Sharp. Inevitable.
She didn’t sit far. Just two stools down. Close enough for heat to pass between them, but far enough for tension to build.

Sienna pretended not to notice — until the woman slid her drink toward her with two fingers and said, “Looks like you need something stronger.”
Sienna looked over. Raised an eyebrow. “You always offer strangers your drink?”
The woman smiled. “Only the ones who stare like they want to devour me.”
Sienna blinked, caught. “And if I do?”
“Then maybe I’ll let you.” A pause. “I’m Isla.”
“Sienna.”

They shook hands. Isla’s grip was firm, slow, and entirely too lingering. The electricity was instant.
They talked. One drink turned to two. Legs brushed. Hands found wrists, arms, hair. Isla leaned in to whisper something about how Sienna’s lips looked like a sin waiting to happen — and Sienna’s hand clenched so tight on her glass she nearly cracked it.

Isla smirked. “Come with me.”
Sienna didn’t answer. She just followed.

They slipped past tables and through a narrow door into the hallway behind the bar. The second it closed, Isla turned and pressed her against the wall, mouth crashing into hers like she’d been waiting hours instead of minutes.
The kiss was fire. All tongue and teeth and no space between them.
Sienna groaned, hands gripping Isla’s waist, dragging her closer until their bodies lined up perfectly. Isla shoved a leg between her thighs and pushed. Hard.
Sienna gasped. “You’re not shy.”
Isla smirked. “I’ve wanted to taste you since you looked at me.”

And then she dropped to her knees.

Right there in the hallway, her hands pushing up Sienna’s skirt, finding her soaked through — panties clinging, ruined. She pulled them aside and didn’t wait. Just dragged her tongue up her slick folds and moaned like she’d come home.
Sienna’s head hit the wall. Her knees buckled.
Isla licked her like she was starving. Mouth and tongue working in unison, slow at first — teasing circles, flicks just under the clit — then faster, sucking her until Sienna was gasping, hands tangled in Isla’s hair.

“You’re gonna make me—” Sienna whimpered.
Isla responded by curling two fingers inside her. Perfectly. Deep and slow, then faster.
Sienna cried out, hips jerking, grinding into her face. The orgasm was sharp, fast, almost brutal. Her whole body shuddered, a low, guttural moan tearing from her throat as Isla held her there, licking through every wave.

But she didn’t stop.

Even as Sienna trembled and panted, Isla kept going — her fingers still thrusting, her mouth back at her clit.
“I can’t—” Sienna tried to pull back.
Isla’s grip tightened. “You can.”
The second orgasm ripped through her harder, legs almost giving out, hips bucking, a scream caught in her throat.
That was when they heard footsteps. A voice. A laugh too close.

Sienna grabbed Isla’s arm. Breathless. “We need to move.”
Isla stood slowly, licking her lips. “Bathroom?”
“Now.”

They stumbled inside the private single stall, locking the door. It barely clicked shut before Sienna shoved Isla back against it and kissed her with desperate hunger.
She dropped to her knees this time.
The dress rode up easily. No panties. Of course. Sienna looked up, mouth inches away, and said, “You’re filthy.”
Isla nodded. “Make me filthier.”

Sienna groaned — low and dark — before she buried her tongue between Isla’s thighs.

Isla cried out, legs trembling immediately as Sienna devoured her.
She didn’t tease. She licked and sucked with intention, flattening her tongue, circling Isla’s clit, then focusing on it with relentless rhythm. Her fingers thrust in deep, fast, curling every time Isla’s moans hit a new octave.
Isla clutched the sink, head thrown back.

“You’re gonna make me—fuck—Sienna—”
“Do it,” Sienna growled, “all over my tongue.”

Isla came hard. Shaking. Loud. Her thighs clamped around Sienna’s head as the orgasm hit her like a wave crashing over a cliff. Sienna kept licking. Kept owning her.

By the time she stood up, Isla was gasping, flushed, wrecked.
They kissed again, both messy, moaning, fingers roaming under clothes, grabbing wherever they could.
But Isla wasn’t done.
She turned Sienna around, bent her over the sink, and pulled her skirt up high.
Sienna looked at her in the mirror. “You’re insatiable.”

Isla’s smile was feral. “You have no idea.”
She dropped to her knees again — from behind this time — and buried her face between Sienna’s thighs, tongue finding her again, now even more soaked, more sensitive, more desperate.
Sienna screamed.
There were no more words. Just skin against skin, sweat, breath, fingernails, gasps. The sounds of need echoing in tile and mirror.

Another orgasm.

Then Isla stood, hands on Sienna’s hips, pulling her back into her as they kissed again — lazy and slow this time, drained and pulsing.
Eventually, they collapsed against the bathroom wall, a tangled, sweating mess.

Silence.

Then laughter.

“God,” Sienna whispered.
Isla chuckled. “You say that like we’re done.

They collapsed against the bathroom wall, tangled and breathless, chests rising in sync. Their lips found each other again — this time slower, but still desperate, still tasting of salt and sweat and slick heat.
Sienna’s voice was ragged. “We’re insane.”
Isla’s eyes glittered. “And not nearly finished.”

She reached for her purse, tossed in the corner during the frenzy. Sienna watched with curiosity—until Isla unzipped a sleek inner pocket and pulled out something small, black, and curved like a secret.

A vibrator.

Sienna’s breath caught.
“You carry that in your bag?”
Isla smiled wickedly. “Some women carry lipstick. I like to be prepared.”
She clicked it on. The low hum was obscene in the quiet bathroom, vibrating with promise.
“Lie back,” Isla said softly, but with no room for argument.
Sienna climbed onto the closed toilet lid, legs spread slightly, her skirt still bunched high around her waist. Her panties were somewhere on the floor. Isla dropped to her knees again, the little toy purring in her hand.

“I want to watch you fall apart,” she whispered.

The first touch was light — just the edge of vibration against Sienna’s already aching clit. She jolted, gasping.

“Fuck—Isla—”

Isla grinned and added her fingers — two of them slipping in deep, wet, curling inside while the toy stayed firmly pressed against her clit. The dual sensation made Sienna scream — her hips bucking, legs shaking.
She gripped Isla’s hair, begging, cursing, panting. “That’s too— I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Isla purred, thrusting her fingers faster. “You will.”

She added a third finger and pinned the vibrator harder. Sienna’s whole body writhed, legs trying to close, thighs trembling violently.

The orgasm was devastating — it tore through her with a sharp cry, her back arching off the seat, her muscles locking. Isla didn’t stop. She held her there, rode the waves with her until Sienna was crying out again — the second orgasm crashing down before the first had fully ended.
Sienna was gasping, undone, her thighs quivering.
She reached for Isla — but Isla shook her head.

“My turn,” she said, standing up and hiking her dress over her hips again.
Sienna caught her breath, hand trembling as she took the toy from Isla’s fingers. “Lay down,” she whispered.
Isla obeyed — back against the tile, legs spread, heels still on, dress bunched above her waist.
Sienna crouched over her, watching her squirm beneath her touch.

Then she slid the vibrator between Isla’s legs, flicking it on high.
Isla’s gasp was instant — body jerking, head hitting the tile.
“Want my fingers too?” Sienna murmured, already sliding them in.
Isla moaned loudly, her body arching up to meet every thrust.

Sienna worked her — slow, deep strokes while the toy buzzed perfectly over her clit. Isla writhed, clawing at the tile, gasping, begging.
“Sienna—please—don’t stop—don’t you dare—”
Sienna leaned down and licked Isla’s inner thigh, watching her unravel.
The orgasm ripped through Isla like a storm, her entire body convulsing as she cried out, eyes squeezed shut, thighs clamping tight around Sienna’s wrist.

But Sienna didn’t stop.

She pulled the vibrator away and replaced it with her mouth — sucking, licking, devouring Isla’s clit while her fingers kept thrusting, slick and deep and relentless.
“Too much,” Isla whimpered. “I—Sienna—oh my god—”

Another orgasm, harder than the last.

Isla screamed, body shaking violently beneath her, one heel slipping off as she came so hard her voice broke into a sob. Sienna kissed her through it — mouth soft now, gentle, easing her down from the edge.
Finally, she pulled back and looked at her.
Isla was a mess. Glowing, ruined, trembling.
Sienna leaned down, kissed her forehead.

“You carry that toy with you everywhere?”

Isla let out a shaky laugh. “Starting to think I should hand you the keys to my apartment.”
They stayed like that for a moment — bodies tangled, sweat cooling.

Then Sienna whispered, “Let’s go back to mine. I have a drawer full of batteries.”

Isla grinned. “And I have no self-control.”
They didn’t make it out of the bar before kissing again.
And they didn’t make it through the front door of Sienna’s place before pulling each other to the floor for round three.

The air in her bedroom was thick with the scent of sex and candles. The sheets were a tangled mess of heat and memory. My thighs still trembled from her mouth. Her lips were swollen. Her eyes, darker than ever.

But we weren’t done.

Not even close.

She reached for her nightstand and pulled out a velvet pouch.

“What’s in that?” I asked, half curious, half breathless.

She smirked. “My collection of secrets.”

One by one, she pulled out little treasures — a blindfold, a soft feather, lace cuffs, and a rose gold vibrator, small and sleek, buzzing softly between her fingers.

“Ever tried toys before?” she asked, trailing the feather along my inner thigh.

I shook my head slowly. “No. But I’ve imagined it.”

She leaned in. “Then tonight, you’re my good girl… and I’m going to show you everything.”

The blindfold slipped over my eyes, and the world turned to black velvet.

No sight. Just sensation.

I felt her hands — soft but sure — as she cuffed my wrists gently and tied them above my head to the headboard. “Comfortable?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I breathed.

Then the feather returned. It danced along my stomach, circled my nipples, and brushed the wetness between my legs. I squirmed, desperate to feel her — anything, everything.

And then I felt it — the light buzz of the vibrator just grazing my clit.

“Oh my god…”

She teased, never pressing fully, just enough to make me need. I arched against the cuffs, hips begging, moaning, “Please…”

But she only giggled. “Not yet, baby. First, you tell me a fantasy.”

I swallowed hard. “I want… I want you to use me. Slowly. Make me come again and again. Until I can’t speak.”

“Mmm, filthy,” she purred. “Now it’s my turn.”

She whispered in my ear, voice dripping with desire: “My fantasy? You dressed as a schoolgirl, crawling on all fours, begging your ‘teacher’ for release…”

I moaned at the image, legs shaking.

She finally pressed the toy hard against my clit — no mercy now, no teasing. It sent hot shocks through my body. She slipped a finger inside me, then two, thrusting deep and slow, curling just right.

“You’re so wet, baby. You’re dripping.”

“Please… please don’t stop…”

“Not until you scream for me.”

And I did.

The orgasm ripped through me, violent and raw. My legs went limp. My throat moaned her name like a chant.

She didn’t untie me yet.

Instead, she straddled my chest, tugging her panties off.

“Now,” she whispered, voice thick with want, “Use that tongue, little slut.”

She lowered herself onto my mouth, and I obeyed like I’d been waiting all my life to worship her. Her taste was sweet, her moans low and feral. I licked and sucked, hands still bound, her thighs clenched around my head as she ground into my mouth.

“Ohhh fuck—yes—YES—”

She came hard, hips jerking, breath caught, fingers in my hair pulling tight.

We collapsed together, panting, glowing.

She untied me. Kissed my wrists. Nuzzled into my neck.

“I’ve never been so turned on,” I said.

She kissed my lips, smiling.

“Good. Because we haven’t even started yet.”

The clock blinked 1:43 a.m.

She lay beside me, half-asleep, her legs tangled with mine, skin glistening with sweat and afterglow. But I wasn’t done.

Not yet.

I traced a line from her navel to her thigh, watching her shiver. “Still awake, baby?”

“Mmm,” she moaned into the pillow, “Barely.”

“Good,” I whispered, kissing her neck. “Because now it’s my turn to play.”

Her eyes fluttered open, but before she could react, I rolled on top of her and pinned her wrists down.

“Wait—what are you—”

“Shhh,” I grinned. “You’ve been teasing me for hours. Now you’re going to take everything I give you.”

I slid off the bed and walked to her nightstand. I knew exactly where she kept it — the strap-on harness, sleek and black, still warm from the last time she’d used it on me. But tonight, she’d be the one underneath.

I fastened it on slowly, deliberately, watching her eyes grow wide with anticipation and need. Her thighs clenched. Her breath hitched.

“Don’t move,” I said, my voice sharp.

She stayed perfectly still, eyes locked on the dildo — firm, thick, and glistening as I ran a little lube over it, stroking it slowly, letting her imagination build.

I crawled back on top of her, my body hovering just above hers, the tip of the toy nudging her soaked folds.

“You want it, don’t you?” I whispered into her ear.

“Fuck yes,” she breathed, trying to grind against me.

I slapped her thigh — not too hard, just enough to make her gasp. “Did I say you could move?”

Her eyes widened. Her lip trembled — turned on beyond control.

“Say it,” I demanded. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” she whispered. “I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours,” she moaned, voice breaking. “Please—fuck me.”

I lined the tip up with her dripping entrance, rubbing it against her clit, slow and steady. Her hips arched.

Then, with one deep push, I slid inside her.

She gasped — her whole body arching as the toy filled her, stretching her open, inch by inch.

“Look at you,” I groaned, gripping her hips. “So fucking tight… already soaking my cock.”

She moaned, high and desperate. “Don’t stop—please—fuck me harder.”

I obeyed.

I pulled out, then thrust deep again, slamming into her with a steady rhythm. Her hands clawed at the sheets, head thrown back, chest rising and falling in ragged moans.

I grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head again, fucking her harder — relentless, deep, wet slaps echoing off the walls.

“You like being used like this?” I growled into her ear.

“Yes,” she cried, voice wrecked. “God, yes, I love it!”

Her moans turned to cries as I pounded into her faster, the dildo hitting deep, the base grinding against my own soaked clit through the harness. Every thrust made my thighs shake with pleasure.

“You’re going to come for me,” I snarled. “I want to feel your pussy clench around this cock.”

She was sobbing with pleasure, gasping, trembling. “I’m gonna—I’m—oh fuck—”

I reached down and rubbed her clit furiously as I kept thrusting.

She screamed as the orgasm hit her like a wave — back arching, legs locked around my waist, pussy pulsing around the strap-on like she couldn’t take any more.

But I didn’t stop.

I flipped her over, ass in the air, her body limp but begging. She whimpered as I entered her from behind — deeper now, rougher, the wet slap of our bodies louder and more shameless.

“You’re dripping down your thighs,” I whispered, leaning over her. “You’re such a dirty little slut.”

“Yes,” she moaned, eyes rolled back, “Use me… make me yours…”

I tangled my fingers in her hair and pulled her head back, slamming into her over and over until I felt her legs give out again.

“I can’t—I’m—baby I can’t come again—”

“You will,” I growled, biting her shoulder. “You fucking will.”

I rubbed her clit again, hips relentless, and she broke — shaking, screaming, squirting all over the toy and the bed, soaking the sheets completely.

Her body collapsed. I held her, breathing hard, the toy still inside her as she whimpered in overstimulated ecstasy.

I gently slid it out and lay beside her, pulling her into my arms. Her body was shaking, hair damp, cheeks flushed.

She looked up at me, eyes glassy, smiling like she was drunk on lust.

“You,” she whispered, voice wrecked, “are a fucking demon.”

I kissed her forehead. “And you? You’re mine.”

Lea stepped into the boutique and instantly regretted it.

The place was way too nice. Rose-gold racks, moody lighting, soft jazz humming under everything. The kind of boutique where bras weren’t just bras — they were lingerie. Intimate. Intentional. Something to show, not to hide.

She shouldn’t have come in. Not dressed like this — hoodie, leggings, scuffed sneakers. Not with her hair in a messy bun. Not alone.

But she was a freshman now. College was supposed to be about trying new things. Pushing limits. Finding yourself, right? And that’s what this was. Sort of.

There were other shoppers — not many, but enough to make her immediately conscious of the slight squeak her sneakers made on the polished floor. A woman in a sleek beige trench coat was browsing bralettes near the window. Two girls, maybe juniors or seniors, were laughing over a lace bodysuit in the back corner, their heads bent together like they were in on a joke she’d never get.

They looked like they belonged here. Comfortable. Like, lingerie didn’t make their skin prickle with embarrassment just from looking at it.

She told herself it was just a bra fitting. A normal rite of passage. Plenty of girls didn’t know their size until college. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d googled last night. Again.

“Am I just admiring her or actually attracted to her?”
“Signs you’re overthinking your sexuality.”
“Straight girls who kissed other girls and liked it.”
And then:
“How to tell if you’re bi?”

She’d read the forums with the brightness on her phone all the way down. Scrolled through threads about fluidity and “compulsory heterosexuality” like she was doing research for someone else. Not her. Definitely not her.

She hadn’t voiced any of this, of course. Growing up in a tiny rural town where everyone knew everyone else’s middle name didn’t leave a lot of space for exploring anything outside the script. Her high school sex ed class had barely mentioned girls at all, let alone what might happen if you liked them.

So no — she wasn’t not straight. Just… curious. That’s what people called it, right? Curiosity. A passing thought. A phase, maybe.

The curtain at the back of the boutique rustled.

“Hey there.”

The woman who stepped out might as well have walked off a magazine cover — all confident ease and long lines. Black jumpsuit, sleeve of soft floral tattoos down one toned arm, smile like she already knew all of Lea’s secrets. Her name tag read Cassi.

Lea’s stomach flipped. “Hi. I, um—” She forced herself to meet Cassi’s eyes. “I think I need a fitting.”

Cassi smiled, slowly and warmly. “First time?”

Lea nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a little,” Cassi said, then offered her hand. “I’m Cassi.”

“Lea,” she said, and tried not to wince at how breathless she sounded. Cassi’s grip was firm, her hand cool, soft to the touch— and Lea hated how much she noticed.

Cassi gestured toward the back. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

As she followed, Lea tried to keep her gaze respectful, neutral, casual — and failed completely. She didn’t even know what she was looking for — only that her eyes kept drifting over Cassi’s body. But whatever it was, she felt it tighten in her chest. Stir in her stomach.

It didn’t mean anything.

It couldn’t.

The fitting room was smaller than Lea expected. Not tiny, but definitely not the spacious kind you see in movies. More like the kind she was used to — a simple mirror, soft overhead lighting, a narrow bench, and just enough floor space for two people if they stood close. Which, apparently, they would.

She stepped inside first, brushing past the curtain and feeling the warmth of the boutique muffled behind her. Voices drifted faintly from the front — a few customers browsing, laughing softly. It was early afternoon on a weekday, but they weren’t alone.

“Go ahead and take off your top and bra,” Cassi said from outside. “I’ll just be a second.”

Lea nodded even though Cassi couldn’t see her. She slipped out of her hoodie, folding it with more care than necessary, then reached behind her back to remove the pale gray bralette she’d been wearing since high school. It was soft from too many washes, stretched out, offering zero support — suddenly, it felt like a security blanket she was letting go of.

She stood in front of the mirror, arms crossed, heart thumping.

Cassi stepped in, brushing the curtain closed behind her, and in the small space, her presence filled everything. Her scent — warm, clean, with a hint of something earthy — settled around them.

“Okay,” Cassi said gently, letting the measuring tape slide from around her neck. “I’m going to get your band and cup size. You’ll feel my hands under your arms, just letting you know.”

Lea nodded, trying not to overthink how close they already were. Her bare arm brushed Cassi’s. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

Cassi worked quickly, but her touch was… intentional. Not inappropriate, not quite — just deliberate. The tape slipped under Lea’s bust, then around her back, Cassi’s fingers brushing along her ribs, her sides. The contact was cool, then warm. Too soft to be clinical. Too firm to ignore.

Lea inhaled sharply as Cassi adjusted the tape — not even a full breath, but enough that Cassi noticed.

“Breathe normally,” Cassi murmured. “If you can.”

Lea let out a tiny laugh, high and embarrassed.

“You’re not the first to get a little tense in here,” Cassi added, voice low, reassuring.

It wasn’t the words. It was the way she said ‘in here’. Like this space had its own rules. Its own intimacy.

She moved with confidence, checking measurements, then reaching behind her to hook a few bras over the wall’s single peg. Lace. Mesh. Soft colors that suddenly felt more like suggestions than garments.

“Let’s start with this one,” Cassi said, lifting a delicate lilac bralette. “Wireless, soft-cup. Pretty and comfortable.”

Lea took it with slightly unsteady hands.

“I’ll stay and help you adjust the fit,” Cassi added casually, already stepping back. “This one can be tricky the first time.”

Lea hesitated. “With me in here?”

“If you’re okay with that.”

She wasn’t sure. But she didn’t say no.

The boutique’s soft music filtered through the curtain. So did the murmur of other voices — not close, but close enough to remind her this was still public. This was still real.

She slipped the bralette on. It hugged her gently, unfamiliar but… good. Cassi stepped closer again, tugging at the band with practiced fingers, adjusting the shoulder straps with just enough pressure to make Lea suck in a breath she hoped wasn’t too obvious.

“You’re tense again,” Cassi said, eyes catching hers in the mirror. There was a flicker of something more now — curiosity? Mischief?

Or maybe that was just Lea, reading into everything.

But her skin burned where Cassi’s hands had touched. And in the small space between them, Lea could suddenly feel how little air was left.

Cassi adjusted one strap, then the other, her fingers skimming along the edge of the bralette where fabric met skin. The lace was barely there—soft, delicate — and so was Cassi’s touch. But it still sent sparks through Lea’s chest.

“This one fits well,” Cassi murmured, standing behind her now, both of them facing the mirror. “Supportive without flattening you out. You’ve got a really lovely shape.”

Lea swallowed hard. “Thanks,” she said, her voice thinner than she meant it to be.

Cassi met her eyes in the reflection. “You okay?”

Lea nodded too quickly, then slowed herself. “Yeah. Just… not used to this.”

Cassi smiled, soft and patient. “It’s a lot of touch. I know. If anything feels too much, just say.”

The reassurance helped. But it didn’t cool the heat rising under Lea’s skin. If anything, it fanned it.

Cassi reached around her again, brushing her hands beneath the edge of the band to test the fit. Her fingers skimmed along Lea’s ribs, then up—slowly, carefully—over the curve of one breast. It was a perfectly plausible adjustment. Completely justifiable. But Cassi’s hand lingered for a second too long.

Lea’s breath hitched.

Cassi felt it. She didn’t say anything, just moved to the other side, repeating the same gesture — but this time her pinky slid, just barely, along the underside of Lea’s breast.

“Still okay?” Cassi asked, voice quiet, her face close beside Lea’s now. She didn’t look at the mirror this time. She looked directly at Lea.

Lea’s mouth opened, then closed. She nodded. Again.

Cassi stepped closer, their bodies almost touching now. Her hand grazed up to adjust the strap on Lea’s shoulder, knuckles brushing her collarbone, her throat.

“You’re very responsive,” Cassi said, almost to herself.

Lea felt something coil low in her belly. Her nipples were tightening beneath the lace — she could feel it, and based on where Cassi’s hands were moving, she was sure Cassi could too.

The strap slipped slightly. Cassi reached for it again, tugging it back into place — but this time, as she adjusted it, her thumb traced along the top swell of Lea’s breast. Barely pressure. But intentional. And Lea didn’t pull away.

Cassi leaned in just a little closer. “You want me to keep helping?” she asked, low enough that Lea barely heard it over her own breathing.

Lea didn’t speak at first. She couldn’t.

She gave the smallest nod.

That was all Cassi needed.

The hand on her shoulder slid down, fingers trailing over the bralette’s front. She pressed gently, no longer pretending to adjust anything. Just touching. Feeling. Testing the edges of what was allowed.

Lea’s head tipped back slightly. The mirror showed her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and how her chest lifted with each breath.

Then Cassi’s palm curved around her breast fully, her thumb brushing over the lace-covered nipple. The contact was featherlight — but it sent a jolt straight through Lea, who gasped softly, then immediately covered her mouth with her hand.

Cassi smiled. Not smug. Just knowing.

“You’re not used to being touched like this,” she said, still watching Lea’s reflection.

Lea shook her head slowly. “No.”

“I can tell.” Her fingers slid again — slower this time — tracing the edge of the cup, then slipping beneath it. Skin to skin now.

Lea made another small, choked noise and turned halfway, instinctively seeking out more contact—or maybe just looking for permission. Cassi didn’t move away. Her free hand lifted, brushing a piece of hair behind Lea’s ear.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” Cassi said softly, one thumb stroking the underside of Lea’s breast now.

Lea looked up at her. She meant to say something, anything — but the words got lost. Her eyes dropped to Cassi’s mouth, lingered. Then back to her eyes.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered.

Cassi’s smile deepened. Not triumphant — just warm. Assured. Like this was always where they were going to end up.

“Okay,” she said. “Then let’s be quiet.”

Outside the curtain, someone laughed. A hanger scraped against a rack. The boutique was still alive with polite shopping noises, a world away from the heat blooming in this cramped little room.

Inside, Cassi leaned forward — her mouth brushing Lea’s neck. And her hand slowly slid downward.

Cassi’s lips brushed Lea’s neck — a slow, open-mouthed kiss that made her knees go soft. Her hand, still cradling one breast, gave a gentle squeeze, thumb circling over her nipple now without pretense. No adjustment. No excuse.

Lea arched against her, mouth parting on a shaky exhale.

The lace of the bralette shifted as Cassi moved, bolder this time. The contact was too much and not enough; her body strung tight with nerves and need. She couldn’t believe this was happening — and yet, part of her had hoped for this since the moment she’d first laid eyes on Cassi. She just couldn’t admit it, even to herself.

Cassi made it easy to say yes without ever saying it out loud.

Behind the curtain, the boutique hummed quietly with life. A register beeped. Someone asked a question about sizing. But inside the fitting room, Lea’s world had narrowed to breath and skin and heat — and Cassi.

She was everywhere at once. Fingers slipping lower. Lips teasing the line of Lea’s jaw. One hand still pressing gently at the small of her back, keeping her close, keeping her steady.

Then Cassi paused.

Her breath tickled Lea’s skin as she asked, voice velvet-soft: “Do you want me to stop?”

Lea met her eyes in the mirror. Her reflection looked nothing like the girl who’d walked in fifteen minutes ago. Her cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-bruised and trembling.

She shook her head. “No.”

Cassi smiled — not wicked, but pleased. Like she’d been waiting for that answer.

“Then be a good girl,” she whispered, “and stay quiet for me.”

Lea whimpered — already failing — and Cassi kissed her just beneath the ear, fingers sliding lower, sliding under the waistband of her leggings.

Lea sucked in a sharp breath—too loud—and pressed her lips together hard enough to hurt. Her pulse was already hammering, but now it stuttered, skipped, then raced faster when those fingertips dipped lower, brushing bare skin with featherlight intent.

There wasn’t enough space to move back, and nowhere to go even if she wanted to. The walls of the fitting room curved inward, the thick velvet curtain drawn shut but not sealed—just barely closed enough to offer privacy, not protection. Outside, heels clicked softly across marble floors. A hushed laugh drifted in from beyond the stall. Someone else was trying things on, someone normal, someone untouched by the way Cassi’s palm now cupped the curve of Lea’s hip, warm and sure.

She shivered.

“Shhh,” Cassi whispered against her neck, lips grazing the sensitive spot below her jaw. “Breathe.”

That was easy for her to say.

Lea tried. Inhaled through her nose, exhaled slowly through her mouth, but it came out unevenly, shallow. Every nerve felt lit up at once, like static crawling along her spine.

Cassi’s thumb traced the edge of Lea’s panties, just a whisper of pressure against the seam of her thigh. Not inside yet—not quite, but close enough that Lea felt the promise of it, the slow pull of anticipation low in her belly.

Her hips twitched instinctively, chasing something she didn’t know how to ask for.

“You’re so tense,” Cassi murmured, pressing another kiss just behind her ear. “Let me help you relax.”

Lea swallowed hard, nodding without speaking. Words felt impossible right now. Anything she said would crack open the fragile reality of this moment—that she was standing half-dressed in a fitting room, trembling under the hands of a woman who smelled like vanilla and clean linen, whose voice alone made her stomach flutter.

Cassi shifted slightly, angling them both toward the mirror mounted on the back wall of the stall. Lea saw herself first—wide eyes, flushed cheeks, lips parted and slightly swollen from where she’d bitten them. Then she saw Cassi behind her, dark hair pulled into a loose knot, smoky eyes watching her reflection with careful warmth.

“You okay?” Cassi asked softly, pausing her hand just above Lea’s hipbone.

Lea nodded again, slower this time. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what she was. But she knew she didn’t want Cassi to stop.

“I’m okay,” she managed, voice barely audible.

Cassi slipped one finger into her panties, slow and deliberate, tracing the damp warmth where Lea was already trembling. When she found that aching spot — just a gentle brush of her fingertip — Lea gasped, the sound catching in her throat, barely muffled by the hand pressed to her mouth.

Her knees buckled.

Cassi caught her with an arm around her waist, steadying her. “Easy,” she breathed, watching her face in the mirror.

Lea couldn’t tear her eyes away from their reflection. Herself, wide-eyed and trembling, mouth parted in silent shock. And Cassi—so composed, so certain—as her fingers moved with gentle persistence, circling, teasing, slipping lower to dip between her folds.

It was too much.

It was exactly right.

Lea squeezed her eyes shut for a second, willing herself to stay quiet, to stay still, but Cassi hummed approval and kissed the side of her neck again, working her open with practiced patience.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Cassi whispered, voice velvety and low.

Lea whimpered, biting her lip hard enough to sting. Another customer passed outside the stall—soft footsteps, a rustle of silk—and she froze, heart pounding wildly.

Cassi slowed her strokes, waiting until the sound faded before resuming, deeper this time. Two fingers now, easing into her, curling just right.

Lea clenched around Cassi’s fingers, her breath hitching in her throat as another wave of sensation rolled through her. Each stroke, each press of Cassi’s knuckles against her sensitized skin sent sparks flaring behind her eyelids. Her body betrayed her—leaning into the touch, hips shifting unconsciously, chasing more even as her mind screamed that this was too fast, too much, too good.

Cassi adjusted her grip, tilting her head to watch Lea’s reaction in the mirror. “Look at yourself,” she murmured, her voice like honey poured over heat. “Watch how beautiful you are when you let go.”

Lea’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Cassi’s gaze in the glass. Her cheeks were flushed deep pink, her lips swollen-looking, parted with every stifled exhale. Sweat had gathered along her brow, her neck, the dip of her collarbone. She looked undone.

And Cassi looked satisfied.

The next thrust of Cassi’s fingers curled tighter, hitting somewhere deeper, softer, and Lea’s knees nearly gave out again. She turned her head sharply, burying a cry into the crook of her elbow, shoulders shaking.

“Shh,” Cassi whispered, pressing closer behind her, supporting her weight. “I’ve got you.”

Lea clutched at the front of the dressing room wall, nails scraping lightly against the wood paneling.

Cassi’s rhythm became steady, relentless—her fingers gliding in and out, each stroke pressing firmly against that sensitive, aching spot. Lea’s breaths fell into sync with Cassi’s movements, trembling harder with every heartbeat, her muscles tightening, toes curling helplessly inside her sneakers. She bit down on her forearm again, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as the pleasure built, rising toward something she couldn’t control, couldn’t hold back.

Then Cassi leaned in, lips grazing her ear. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

And in that moment, there was no room for denial. She wanted this. She wanted her.

Her body arched, pressing back into Cassi as the orgasm crashed through her—sharp and sweet and endless. Her legs shook, her breath caught, and a muffled sob escaped her throat as wave after wave pulsed through her core. No boy had ever made her feel like this—not this seen, not this known, not this safe while falling apart.

Cassi kept moving with her, slow and steady, guiding her through the final shudders of release. Only when Lea melted against her—boneless, breathless—did she ease her touch, hands gentle now, grounding.

Lea didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Her body was too full of sensation, her mind still catching up to what had just happened.

The boutique murmured quietly on the other side of the curtain—distant hangers, soft voices, a world still turning as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.

But something had. Something inside her had shifted.

Cassi’s fingers trailed delicately up her thigh, then smoothed her panties back into place, easing her leggings up with slow precision, almost reverence. She tucked Lea in like she was putting something precious back together.

Lea’s breath finally began to settle. Her chest rose and fell in slow, shaky waves.

And when she opened her eyes—really opened them—her reflection was still there in the mirror. But something was different.

Her lips were parted, kiss-bitten. Her hair was slightly mussed. Her cheeks flushed with something deeper than embarrassment.

And her eyes—clear now, wide and searching—no longer looked confused.

There was no pretending anymore. No more Googling late at night or telling herself it didn’t mean anything.

She’d let a woman touch her. Had wanted her to. Had craved it.

And now she knew.

She was attracted to women.

No, maybe, no what-if.

Just: yes.

And it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel shameful. It felt like something she’d finally stopped resisting.

She looked at herself, heart still racing, and saw the truth written clearly across her face.

She wasn’t broken.

She wasn’t confused.

She was awake.

When Cassi finally moved, it was to step beside her, meeting Lea’s gaze in the mirror. A small, knowing smile played on her lips.

“You good?” Cassi whispered, her voice tender, gentle.

Lea smiled back shyly. “Yeah.”

Cassi brushed a thumb lightly over Lea’s flushed cheek, a touch more affectionate than necessary. “Good.”

Then, with casual grace, Cassi reached into the pocket of her jumpsuit and pulled out a small scrap of paper and a pen. Lea watched curiously, pulse jumping again as Cassi scribbled something down.

When Cassi met her gaze again, her eyes sparkled with quiet mischief. She folded the paper with deliberate care, then raised it to Lea’s mouth, pressing it lightly between her lips. Lea parted them without thinking, the slip of paper resting there like a secret passed in plain sight.

“Call me sometime,” Cassi murmured, fingers lingering just long enough on Lea’s chin.

Lea nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the paper between her lips as Cassi pulled her hand away. A promise, a possibility. Maybe something more.

“Take your time,” Cassi added softly. “I’ll be right out front.”

Lea listened to Cassi slip through the curtain, the quiet swish of fabric a gentle punctuation to everything that had just happened. Alone, she took a deep, steadying breath and tucked the paper into her pocket, feeling it like a secret, or maybe the first of many secrets she would finally allow herself.

Looking into the mirror again, Lea saw herself clearly, maybe for the first time. Not a different girl, but a truer one. There was no more doubt, no more pretending. Just the quiet, undeniable truth of who she was.

And she knew, with her whole body now, that this was where everything started.

The morning light has just started to paint the far corner of their bedroom when Kaleya wakes, still cradled by the faint hum of last night’s dreams. First, her mind registers the comforting weight of the comforter, the musk of sleep-warmed linens, and then the oddity. Not discomfort, exactly, but an alertness in the body, a telltale pressure and slip between her thighs that feels, even in the afterglow of sleep, obscene.

She blinks twice, vision adjusting to the blue-white geometry of morning, and glances to her left. Alejandra sleeps deeply, the sharp relief of her cheek softened by loose strands of black hair, one muscular arm flung above her head, the other curled protectively at Kaleya’s side. Kaleya admires her for a moment, gazing at the even rise and fall of her chest and the way the faintest smile lingers on her lips as if she’s dreaming of something delicious. She tries to focus on Alejandra, on the quiet joy of waking next to her, but the distraction between her own legs is impossible to ignore.

Kaleya shifts her hips, hoping to mask the movement as a casual stretch. She’s three months pregnant and just beginning to show, her belly only slightly more prominent than the taut, gently muscled lines she’d maintained since college. Her breasts are the most dramatic change, heavy and hot, a source of constant, private fascination and awkwardness. But this morning her arousal is lower, deeper, wetter than she’s ever felt before. She squeezes her thighs together, feeling a squelch, and bites her lip.

She tries to remember if there’d been a dream: had she been fucked in her sleep, by Alejandra or some anonymous other? The wetness is so intense it’s bordering on ridiculous, soaking not just her panties (plain white cotton, a size up from her usual) but the sheets beneath her too. It’s embarrassing, in a way that’s making her feel young and oversexed, and she presses her hand between her legs as if to hide it from Alejandra’s sleeping form.

But Alejandra is not, in fact, asleep. There’s a beat of stillness, then a sudden predatory shift as Alejandra pulls her closer, pressing her face into the hollow of Kaleya’s neck.a

“Mmm,” she says, voice half-melted with sleep. “You smell different this morning.”

Kaleya flushes and squirms, trying not to pull away. “Sorry,” she whispers. “It’s… I think it’s the hormones.”

Alejandra opens one eye, regarding her with a lazy amusement. “Kaly, it’s not something you need to apologize for.” She inhales again, more dramatically, and nuzzles her nose into the crook of Kaleya’s shoulder. “Jesus, it’s like you’re leaking pheromones. Is this what the next six months are going to be like?”

Kaleya huffs, but her embarrassment softens under Alejandra’s obvious delight. “I have no idea. I googled it last night and all the articles were like, ‘congratulations, you are an unstoppable fuckmachine now.’ But this is… I mean, it’s a lot.”

Alejandra grins, stretching catlike before reaching down to cup Kaleya’s thigh through the blanket. “Show me,” she murmurs.

For a moment, Kaleya wants to refuse. Not out of prudishness, but out of a genuine fear of how much her body has changed without her permission. But the command in Alejandra’s voice, soft but absolute, is impossible to resist. She peels back the comforter, exposing herself. She tries not to squirm as Alejandra’s eyes zero in on the dark, spreading stain between her legs.

“Oh my god,” Alejandra says, reverent. “You’re fucking soaked.”

“It’s not—” Kaleya starts, but Alejandra is already sliding down the bed, her hands anchoring themselves on Kaleya’s hips. She presses her face close, then actually presses her nose into the saturated cotton, inhaling again. “Shit, Kaly. You smell incredible.” 

Kaleya’s hands grip the pillow, her knuckles white. The humiliation transforms, swiftly, into something else. She watches as Alejandra uses her teeth to pull the waistband of her underwear down, exposing the glossy, flushed mound beneath. The air feels cold and damp against her, and she tries to close her legs, but Alejandra wedges herself firmly between them.

“Don’t you dare,” Alejandra says, voice muffled by the pillow of Kaleya’s thigh.

She hooks her finger, dragging the soaked panties to mid-thigh, then strokes two of her fingertips down the length of Kaleya’s slit, over her swollen, protruding inner lips. The touch is barely there, yet Kaleya’s entire body bucks against it, an electric shock rippling from clit to scalp. She gasps in shock at her own responsiveness.

Alejandra lifts her hand, then examines the wetness stringing between her fingertips. “Do you see this?” she says, almost clinically, then licks her fingers clean. “You taste amazing.”

Kaleya, unable to muster a retort, closes her eyes as Alejandra presses her pointer and middle fingers to her entrance and pushes, slow and deliberate. There is no resistance. If anything, the excess of lubrication makes it almost comically easy. Alejandra sinks her fingers deep, curling them until Kaleya nearly screams.

“Fuck,” Alejandra says, “you’re swallowing me whole. Is that…does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Kaleya says, voice thin and reedy. She feels raw and open, more animal than human, every sense on the surface. “God, yes, it’s—don’t stop.”

Alejandra obliges. She keeps her fingers pumping, slow but relentless, and her mouth moves up to Kaleya’s breast, latching onto the nipple and sucking with a ferocity that borders on greedy. Kaleya can feel a faint ache, the beginning of something she knows will only intensify with time. It feels right, every nerve ending a live wire, her body reconfigured overnight for maximum pleasure and minimum inhibition.

Alejandra’s hand is working harder now, her thumb grinding Kaleya’s clit in insistent, perfect circles. Kaleya’s thighs begin to tremble. She feels the orgasm coming, not as a distant threat but as a tidal wave already about to crash. It’s been weeks since they’d fucked; too much fatigue, too much nausea, too many work emergencies. Now it all returns at once, a backlog of longing and denial collapsing into this singular, obscene moment.

She arches her back, pressing her cunt against Alejandra’s palm, and the orgasm hits her with no warning. She cries out, voice muffled by the pillow, as her body seizes up. Then, to her horror, she feels a gush, more intense than anything she’s ever felt, a spray that soaks Alejandra’s hand and splatters onto the sheets.

Alejandra freezes, then laughs, a sound of pure, delighted disbelief. “Holy shit. You squirted!”

Kaleya’s face burns. “No I didn’t.”

“You did,” Alejandra insists, wriggling her wet hand in the air. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

“I’ve never—” Kaleya begins, but Alejandra is already sliding down, mouth hovering a hair’s breadth above Kaleya’s pulsing cunt.

“Let me taste you,” Alejandra says. And then she’s licking, slow and luxuriant, drawing the flat of her tongue up and down until Kaleya’s hips jerk again, desperate for more. The mess is everywhere, sticky and hot, and Kaleya can smell herself, a heady sweetness that fills the air. She’s still spasming, still leaking, and Alejandra seems intent on wringing every last drop from her.

When Kaleya comes again, it’s quieter, just a slow, rolling wave that leaves her trembling and spent. She pushes at Alejandra’s head, half-heartedly, but Alejandra ignores the protest and keeps licking until every muscle in Kaleya’s body turns to jelly.

At last, Alejandra surfaces, her face slick with arousal and hair matted to her cheeks. “You’re amazing,” she says, eyes shining.

“I’m disgusting,” Kaleya says, but she can’t keep the smile out of her voice.

“You’re perfect,” Alejandra corrects, crawling back up the bed and collapsing on top of her. They’re both sticky, the sheets ruined, the room humming with the aftermath.

For a few minutes, they lie like that, the silence filled only by their ragged breathing and the muffled sound of a neighbor’s lawnmower starting up somewhere down the block. Kaleya feels Alejandra’s heartbeat slow against her chest, the sweat cooling between their bodies. She lets herself drift, the embarrassment now replaced by a warm pride.

Then she remembers her manners. “Your turn,” she says, and flips Alejandra onto her back in one smooth, practiced motion.

Alejandra lets out a surprised yelp, but her eyes are hungry. She reaches up and cups Kaleya’s face, kissing her with an urgency that says she’s been waiting for this all morning. Kaleya can taste herself on Alejandra’s lips, a slick, dark sweetness that makes her shiver.

She kisses her way down Alejandra’s body, pausing to nip at the hollow of her collarbone, the sharp ridge of her hipbone, the taut muscle above her pubic bone. Alejandra’s skin is warm, almost feverish, the subtle taste of salt and something darker beneath. She slips Alejandra’s sleep shorts down and buries her face between her thighs, tongue probing and searching. Alejandra’s cunt is already slick with anticipation, but not nearly as wet as Kaleya’s. The difference only makes her more determined.

She licks. She sucks. She flattens her tongue and drags it up and down until Alejandra’s hands are tangled in her hair, holding her in place. She brings two fingers up and works them in, curling them just so, the way Alejandra likes, and then matches the rhythm of her tongue to the thrust of her hand. Alejandra’s moans grow sharper, the tension in her thighs building. She spasms, thighs clamping tight around Kaleya’s head as she comes, hard and sudden, wetness pooling under her.

Kaleya keeps licking and works her fingers until Alejandra cries out again.  She finally slumps back against the pillows, completely spent. For a moment, Kaleya just watches her, sweaty, flushed, hair a wild mess, and feels a fierce happiness in her chest.

“See?” Alejandra says, breathless, when she can speak again. “Unstoppable fuckmachine.”

Kaleya laughs, and Alejandra reaches up and pulls her into a sticky, tangled hug. They lay there, bodies knotted together, sheets ruined, and morning sunlight creeping higher across the wall.

“It’s going to be a weird year,” Alejandra says, eyes bright.

Kaleya kisses her, slow and soft. “I hope so.”

*

Neither of them makes a move to get up until hunger forces the issue-real, undeniable hunger, not the lust masquerading as appetite that has left them tangled in the sheets for an extra hour. Kaleya swings her legs over the side of the bed, pausing to wince at the sticky aftermath on her thighs, and pads barefoot to the bathroom. She takes her time, savoring the small domestic rituals: toothbrush, cool splash of water, the scent of strawberry soap.

When she returns to the bedroom, Alejandra is sitting up, bedsheet draped across her waist, hair loose and wild.

“I love you, but you’re turning the mattress into a biological hazard,” Alejandra says, waggling an eyebrow.

“I’ll wash the sheets,” Kaleya promises, stooping to start gathering them into a bundle. “You get breakfast started. Muffins?”

“I’ll put the kettle on.” Alejandra snaps a salute, then springs off the bed and scoops up some discarded clothing in one fluid motion. She makes a show of slapping Kaleya’s ass on the way past, then disappears down the hall toward the kitchen. Kaleya grins.

The kitchen is painted a soft, robin’s egg blue, a compromise after months of debate and three different color swatches taped to the wall. The house itself is a sturdy old Massachusetts cape in North Cambridge, a fixer-upper they’d fallen in love with the first time they walked the creaky hardwood floors. On mornings like this, the sunlight floods in through the bay window, splashing across the battered farmhouse table where they eat most meals.

Kaleya finds Alejandra already busy at the counter, slicing the last of the banana-nut muffins they’d baked the night before. She wears nothing but a faded Amherst crewneck and a pair of boxers, legs bare, feet planted wide for balance as she works. The electric kettle begins to rumble, and she sets out two mismatched mugs; one with a faded unicorn, the other a “World’s Okayest Mom” gag from Kaleya’s sister.

“Good thing we made the full batch,” Alejandra says, popping a stray crumb into her mouth. “You’re eating for two now, after all.”

Kaleya rolls her eyes, stepping into the laundry alcove nearby, setting the sheets in the machine and starting a new cycle. She takes a seat at the table. “At this point, I think it’s more accurate to say I’m secreting for two.”

Alejandra snorts, loading the muffin halves into the toaster oven. “That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” It’s a small, perfect moment, she thinks to herself, with the August sunlight, carbs, and the easy banter of people who’d been orbiting each other for years. The kettle chimes, and she pours them both strong black tea. When the muffins are done, she slathers them with butter, watching with satisfaction as it melts into the crumb.

They eat in companionable silence, save for the occasional moan of appreciation—Kaleya’s mostly sincere, Alejandra’s increasingly exaggerated until Kaleya has to swat her leg under the table to make her stop.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Alejandra asks, licking her fingers.

Kaleya considers. “I thought I’d read for a bit, then take a stab at next week’s reports. But mostly I want to sit in the sun and wear something that isn’t stained with my own fluids.”

Alejandra grins. “Very ambitious. I’m going to work on that pitcher set for the craft fair. Maybe swim, if it warms up enough.”

Their pool wasn’t much, just a ten-foot above-ground they’d installed last summer, wedged between the back fence and a wobbly birch tree. But it’s enough, and on weekends, it’s their favorite place to unwind.

“Swim sounds good,” Kaleya says, already picturing the weightless relief of floating in cool water. Her back aches more these days, a dull, persistent pressure just above her tailbone. “Maybe after lunch?”

“Deal.” Alejandra raises her mug in a toast. “To body fluids. May they never cease.”

Kaleya laughs, the sound joyful. She finishes her muffin and lets herself just sit for a while, watching the dust motes in a shaft of light, feeling the slow, pleasant hum of contentment radiate outward from her center.

After breakfast, they drift apart for a few hours; Alejandra to her basement workspace, where the sharp, earthy scent of clay is already creeping up the stairs, and Kaleya to the sunroom at the front of the house. She changes into a soft yellow dress, empire-waisted and just loose enough to flatter her new shape. She curls up on the couch with a paperback. The baby is the size of a peach this week, or so the app says, and her body is adjusting in ways that are both thrilling and faintly alarming.

Sometimes, in the quiet, she catches herself touching her belly, half expecting to feel something move. Not yet, she reminds herself. It’s too soon. But the anticipation is there just below her consciousness.

She reads, she dozes, she checks her phone, and then throws it across the cushions in disgust at the endless stream of news. By noon, the kitchen smells of garlic and herbs—Alejandra’s doing, surely—and Kaleya follows her nose to find lunch already in progress. There’s leftover eggplant parmesan, reheated with a mountain of salad on the side, and fresh basil from the pot on the windowsill.

“You spoil me,” Kaleya says, digging in.

“You’re my favorite science experiment,” Alejandra replied, eyes dancing. “How else am I supposed to see if you’ll develop superpowers?”

They eat and talk about nothing, everything, the kinds of conversations that only happen when you know someone will remember the small details months later. The food is good, and the company better. When the dishes are done, Alejandra turns to her with a sly, sidelong glance.

“So. Pool?”

Kaleya nods. “Give me five to change.”

They move together, the anticipation humming between them like a taut wire. Kaleya picks out her swimsuit, a pastel pink bikini one size up and still somehow too tight across the chest, and tugs it on, smoothing the fabric over her boobs. She examines herself in the bathroom mirror, unsure whether to be proud or shy about the faint curve in her belly just beginning to show. She chooses proud. For now.

When she meets Alejandra at the back door, her wife is already waiting. She has a towel slung over one shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head, and a grin that promises trouble.

“You look incredible,” Alejandra says, pulling her close for a lingering kiss. Then, without warning, she scoops Kaleya up bridal-style and carries her, shrieking and laughing, down the steps and out into the bright, blinding afternoon.

The water is shockingly cold against her skin, but after the initial gasp, Kaleya finds it glorious; a full-body reset, every nerve blinking awake beneath the bright summer sun. She swims a slow lap around the perimeter, arms slicing through the blue. She floats for a minute on her back, watching fluffy white cloud shapes drift lazily overhead.

Alejandra cannonballs in, sending a tsunami over the lip of the pool and nearly soaking the towels on the lawn chairs. She surfaces, eyes wild, and chases after Kaleya with a wolfish grin.

“Come here, fuckmachine,” Alejandra calls, paddling up behind her. She hooks an arm around Kaleya’s waist, hauling her in, and nips at the salt of her shoulder before pushing her away with mock ferocity.

They wrestle for a few minutes—Alejandra’s competitive streak is legendary, even in water—and then collapse, both panting, against the rubbery side of the pool. Alejandra tucks a wet lock of hair behind Kaleya’s ear and stares at her,. The intensity of her gaze hits Kaleya like a physical force.

“God, look at you,” Alejandra says, voice lower than before. “You’re fucking radiant.”

Kaleya blushes, water streaming off the sharp arch of her cheekbone. “You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Kaleya nods; she does love it. She loves the way Alejandra’s hunger for her is never coy or calculated, but direct. Sometimes it’s almost overwhelming, like now, with the pressure of Alejandra’s thigh pinning hers to the pool wall. She catches Alejandra looking, not at her face, but at the way her bikini clings to her breasts, stretching taut across the new, swollen curves. She sees the way Alejandra’s eyes linger on her belly, then flicks up to meet her gaze, dark and hungry.

“Is this okay?” Alejandra asks, voice suddenly gentle. “You look—god, you look amazing, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not,” Kaleya says, honest and a little out of breath. “I like the way you look at me. I always have.”

That’s all the invitation Alejandra needs. She presses closer, the world narrowing to the cool pressure of the pool wall behind Kaleya’s back and the heat of Alejandra’s body against her front. Alejandra kisses her, open-mouthed and unhurried. One hand slides up to cup the side of Kaleya’s breast, thumb stroking lightly over the wet fabric. Their tongues move sweetly together, soft moans shared between them.

It’s a different sensation than in bed; less urgency, more exploration. The resistance of the water slows everything down, making every touch deliberate. Kaleya finds herself focusing on tiny things: the taste of chlorine on Alejandra’s lips, the flutter of her own pulse in her ears, and the way her nipples have already gone pebble-hard, demanding attention.

Alejandra must have noticed, because her thumb keeps circling, applying just enough pressure over the fabric to make Kaleya whimper into her mouth. Then, with a mischievous look, Alejandra tugs the bikini top aside, exposing the nipple and rolling it between her fingers.

Kaleya gasps. The sensation is almost too much; her breasts had been sensitive before, but now every touch is multiplied, as if her body has traded all modesty for raw sensation. She arches into Alejandra’s hand, hungry for more, and Alejandra obliges, pinching and teasing until Kaleya feels her knees buckle.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Not a bad way to go,” Alejandra says, then bent down and sucks the exposed nipple into her mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make Kaleya’s toes curl.

She thinks for a moment that’s the extent of it; some exhibitionist thrill, a flash of skin in the backyard before the neighbors come home. But then Alejandra’s other hand slides down, palm flat against Kaleya’s belly, then lower, finding the waistband of her bikini bottoms.

Alejandra’s touch is featherlight at first, tracing the seam, teasing the elastic. Kaleya bites her lip, her breath coming shallow. She presses her hips forward, an unspoken plea.

Alejandra slides her hand inside, underwater, two fingers searching and then finding the swollen, slippery heat of Kaleya’s cunt. Even submerged, the wetness is unmistakable. The thick, slick mess only seems to multiply with each pass of Alejandra’s fingers. She works slowly, using the palm of her hand to rub Kaleya’s clit while curling her fingers in gentle, rhythmic strokes. The water muffles everything except the wild hammering of Kaleya’s heart and the soft, desperate noises she can’t quite hold back. They kiss again, harder this time. Alejandra swallows Kaleya’s moans as she builds her up, then draws back just enough to watch her face.

“You’re close,” Alejandra says, a statement rather than a question.

“God, fuck yes,” Kaleya says, voice barely a whisper.

Alejandra presses her thumb to Kaleya’s clit, fingers pumping in a steady cadence, and Kaleya comes with a violence that surprises even her. Her whole body shakes, muscles contracting around Alejandra’s hand, and she might have screamed if Alejandra hadn’t kissed her at just that moment. She slumps against Alejandra, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed.

“Holy shit,” Kaleya manages, after a minute. “That is—”

“Incredible?” Alejandra supplies.

“Yeah.”

They float like that for a while, letting the current nudge them gently around the pool, bodies entwined. A gentle breeze dries the tops of their shoulders as their legs drift lazily below the surface.

After a while, Alejandra tips her head back and laughs, a sharp, bright sound that rings out across the yard. “We’re going to have to wash these swimsuits twice.”

Kaleya smiles, the world reduced to summer heat and chlorine and the pulse of Alejandra’s heartbeat where their hands meet beneath the water.

My best friend, Jessica, and I were getting ready to go out into town for a bottomless brunch. I can’t remember the last time we both got dressed up. Jessica had long, blonde hair and a petite, curvaceous body. She has the best set of tits I have ever seen. Jessica had never told me what size they were, but all I knew was that I had to get my hands on them at some point.

It was 6:30 pm, and brunch was booked for 8:00 pm, so there was not a great amount of time to get ready.

“Sarah, can I please use your shower? I need to shave my legs? You never know; I might get lucky tonight, so I’ve got to be prepared”, Jessica giggled.

“Of course, babe, you don’t need to ask me. There’s a spare razor under the sink if you need it,” I replied.

While Jessica was in the shower, I thought of her rubbing her hands all over her wet, soapy body. It was enough to start my pussy dribbling. I went to the kitchen to get myself a glass of wine and started to get ready. The shower was in my en-suite, so I couldn’t turn my mind off the thought of Jessica being naked. I started to think about Jessica and me together in the shower. What I would do to have Jessica’s bouncy, wet tits pressed against mine. Our nipples being pressed together with our hands cupping each others’ pussies.

“Fuck. Stop thinking about this,” I told myself.

I sat down at my dressing table in my dressing gown, rummaging through my make-up bag to decide what products I wanted. I had the idea of a shimmery, statement eye look. The mirror placed on my dressing table was conveniently positioned so I could see into the bathroom, as Jessica hadn’t closed the door properly.

‘Oh my’, I thought.

Jessica certainly wasn’t shaving her legs, that’s for sure. Instead, I saw the reflection of the showerheadshooting water directly onto her clit. I was shocked, but I could feel my own pussy pulsating at the glorious view. I tried so hard not to stare. How could I not when there was a glistening, wet pussy directly in the reflection?

I needed to hear her. Tiptoeing quietly to the bathroom door, I peeked around. Jessica still hadn’t clocked that I could see her gorgeous, curvaceous body. Her erect nipples stood to attention. The showerhead was still between her legs as she let out soft moans. Her eyes were closed from the intense pleasure the water was giving her clit. Jessica’s other hand was alternating between each of her nipples, tugging at them.

While her eyes were closed, I reached down to my own panties. Black laced French panties, of course. Not wanting to waste any time or possibly get caught with my hand inside my underwear, I slid one finger inside my already wet lips. It entered my glistening hole with such ease. Softly, my finger fucked my pussy in and out.

“Mmm, Sarah, just like that. Yeah, fuck”, Jessica moaned, saying my name as she toyed with her pussy.

I felt my pussy tighten around my finger as she moaned my name. God, she was so sexy. It was so hard not to burst in and join her. But I didn’t want our first encounter to be like this, despite how tempting it may be.

Jessica reached her hand down to her pussy, softly using her fingers to toy with her clit. She took her fingers and put them in her mouth, sucking her juices off. Ugh. I wanted to taste her so badly.

“Babe, get me a towel”, Jessica shouted. I opened the bathroom door to be greeted by the view of her ass being shaken playfully.

“I’ve still got it,” Jessica laughed.

I know you do, I thought to myself. My panties were getting damper with each second as I watched water droplets run down her tits. I wish she could feel how wet she had made me. I couldn’t get the image of Jessica pinching her nipples out of my head. I walked over to her and passed her the towel.

“Right, come on, you. We haven’t got time to be messing around,” I said quickly whilst walking back to the bedroom.

“Jess, shall I wear red or black?” I asked, holding up both dresses side by side.

“Definitely red; you always look gorgeous in red,” Jessica said politely.

Jessica walked into the bedroom and dropped her towel on the floor. Are you really best friends if you don’t see each other naked? But my oh my, her body was divine. It was a good job I had black underwear on; otherwise, she’d definitely be able to see a wet patch forming from how wet I was for her.

“I think I’m going to go with my black bodycon dress, you know, the one that is strapless,” Jessica suggested.

“Oh, and I’ve ordered us an Uber. It’ll be 20 minutes”, Jessica added.

Easy access to those beautiful, perky tits of hers, I thought.

While I was finishing my hair, Jessica started to get dressed. She slipped her dress off the hanger and stepped into it. Pulling it over her slim, petite figure.

Shit! I silently thought to myself. She didn’t put on any underwear, and she was braless. But I wasn’t going to question it. Maybe she had done this on purpose so my hand could have easy access to slide up her legs and play with her needy little pussy. I needed to get these thoughts out of my head and fast.

Jess got a notification on her phone to say the Uber had arrived. She took the lead in walking down the stairs as I followed her. I couldn’t help but stare at her plump ass in the most gorgeous, figure-hugging dress I had ever seen. Jessica sat in the front of the taxi, talking the ears off the driver. I think the wine had gone to her head already. I sat in the back of the taxi. I squeezed my legs together to put pressure on my clit. I was so ready to be fucked. But I don’t think that had even crossed Jessica’s mind at all, if ever. I needed to get drunk to put these ideas out of my mind.

The taxi pulled up to the bar. We didn’t need to queue, as Jessica had sorted us VIP entry. “Who’s ready to get drunk?” I chanted.

“Me, me, me”, Jessica responded excitedly.

As we entered the bar, we heard our favourite songs from the 90s being played. Jessica threw her arms in the air and started dancing. Despite the bar being a little empty, it hadn’t dampened the mood.

Jessica leaned into me and said, “Shall we go to the toilets and touch up our makeup while it’s quiet?”

“Sure,” I added.

We walked around the bar hand in hand. As soon as we got inside, Jessica opened her bag and got out a flask containing some form of spirit.

“Fuck, I need this,” Jessica said as she took a swig.

“And I also need you,” she added, getting closer and closer to me.

Jessica backed me into a toilet cubicle and shut the door behind us.

My body grew hot again.

Jessica whispered, “I’ve wanted you all night.”

She leant in, kissing my neck with slow and soft kisses.

“Ohh”, I let out a quiet moan.

Jessica pushed her knee between my thighs to spread my legs open. I began humping her thigh with my clit, moving my hips forwards and back. My pussy was throbbing from my lace panties causing friction on my clit.

“Don’t stop,” I moaned again, my eyes closed.

She kissed her way down my neck, planting small kisses onto my chest. I didn’t have large tits like Jessica. I had just enough to squeeze. Walking her fingers over my chest, she took one of my tits in her hand, squeezing and pinching my nipple.

Jessica stopped for a few seconds and smirked, “Mmm, no bra?” She questioned.

“Look at how pretty your nipples are when they’re hard,” Jessica teased.

She was now kneeling on the cubicle floor, sucking my nipples one at a time over the material of my dress.

“That feels so good”, I panted.

Jessica stood up and slid the straps of my dress down over my shoulders, kissing my neck again, grazing over my tits with her tongue and up to my lips. She planted a slow, passionate kiss on my lips, biting my lower lip gently.

“Touch me”, I begged, guiding her hand towards my pussy.

I wanted her to feel my juices oozing out of my pussy. I needed her to bend me over the toilet and eat me from behind. Jessica sucked my nipples and quickly flicked them with her tongue.

“You’ve got such a sexy body. How about this pretty pussy of yours? Jessica questioned, cupping my pussy on top of my panties with her hand.

“Your pussy is perfect; I saw it in the shower,” I said, panting under my breath.

“I was hoping you’d see. Did you like what you saw?” Jessing grinned as she started to play with my pussy.

Her warm hand felt incredible. I felt her push a finger in between my glistening folds on top of my underwear.

“Mmm, yes, I did”, I replied.

I continued by telling her how wet it made me.

“My pussy was so wet for you,” I playfully teased.

“Let’s see how wet I’ve made you now, shall we?” Jessica questioned, pulling down my lace panties.

I was too turned on to step out of them, so I left my underwear around my ankles and spread my legs. It was a good job that the music in the bar was loud enough to mask my moans; otherwise, everyone in the toilets would have heard. Jessica stroked her finger in between my wet folds, tracing up and down. She did this a few times, then put her finger in her mouth, tasting me before putting her hand back between my legs.

“You’re so wet for me, good girl,” Jessica whispered into my ear.

“Fuck me, I need you to make me cum,” I panted.

At this point, I was holding onto the cubicle door with my arms above my head, trying to keep my balance while Jessica was playing with me. Jessica rubbed my clit in circles, looked me in the eyes and eased a finger into my tight pussy.

“Be a good girl and cum for me. Cum on my fingers, baby. I was thinking of you in the shower. I wanted it to be your tongue on my pussy instead of the shower,” Jessica exclaimed.

I couldn’t stand up much longer. She manoeuvred me onto the toilet seat, as she hadn’t finished having her way with me yet. I felt a vibration coming from my bag. It was Tom calling. There was no way I could answer it. My whole body was shaking from Jessica’s fingers being inside me. Despite the phone ringing, Jessica didn’t stop. She opened up my pussy with two fingers.

“I knew you’d have a pretty pussy,” Jessica smiled whilst she was exploring my folds.

Jessica answered the phone. What the hell did she think she was playing at?

“Hi Tom, I’m here with Sarah. She’s got something to show you,” Jessing said, passing the phone to me.

Back on her knees, Jessica flicked my clit with her tongue.

“What’s going on, ladies?” Tom questioned.

“I’m afraid your girlfriend has been very naughty, so her pussy is mine for the night,” Jessica said, before sucking my clit.

I put the phone on FaceTime and gave him a POV of Jessica having her way with me.

Tom didn’t say a word. I watched him pull his cock out of his boxers, starting to toss it up and down. Maybe he remembered that this was my fantasy, so he was just letting it happen. Either way, I was so turned on but pleased he wasn’t angry. It made my pussy wetter seeing Tom play with his hard dick.

“Bend over,” Jessica demanded, smacking my ass as she pushed me down.

Tom always told me how sexy I was from behind. It was his favourite position of his to see me play with my pussy on the bed, kneeling on my hands and knees. I never know when he’s going to push his cock into me, which is why I love it so much.

Jessica stopped licking my clit and told me to stand. I wasn’t annoyed that I hadn’t cum yet. I love being edged. It makes my orgasm much stronger. Jessica sat on the toilet seat, and I was standing up with my pussy directly above her face. I lowered myself down. Jessica’s warm tongue flicked my clit repeatedly and dipped into my soaking hole. She reached up to my tits as she continued fucking me with her tongue, grabbing onto my tits.

“Mmm, girls, you’re so hot,” Tom’s breathless voice came from the phone.

We both looked at the phone that was placed on the lock on the toilet door. Tom had his thick cock in his hand, tossing it up and down. His mouth was open, breathing heavily.

“I’m going to cum, girls,” Tom said whilst his breathing quickened.

His head was thrown back as he lay in his chair, moans escaping his lips.

“Fuck, I wish it was inside your pussy, Sarah; I need to cum,” Tom continued.

Jessica stopped eating my pussy to say, “Don’t you dare cum. Wait for us to come home so you can fuck us both. Your sexy girlfriend is ready to be fucked; I’ve made her pussy wet for you already.”

Jessica then turned off the phone. Maybe she was into edging, as she didn’t allow Tom to cum either.

“Do I have to wait to cum too?” I interrupted.

She seductively bit her lip, looked me in the eyes, and said, “No princess, I’m not finished with you yet. I’m going to make you cum over and over.”

I’m already sopping wet. That doesn’t stop Jessica from spitting on her fingers and rapidly rubbing my clit. Next, inserting two fingers deep into my drenched pussy. My back arches, her fingers being thrust in and out of me. My pussy tightening around her fingers.

I cry in pleasure, “Mmm, yeah, just like that, I’m cumming.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” we heard coming from the cubicle next to us.

Jessica stopped, crouched down, and looked under the toilet cubicle. There was a gorgeous blonde woman playing with herself, listening to Jessica and Sarah fuck each other.

“Don’t stop; make her cum. You two are so fucking hot,” the woman said.

Jessica sunk two fingers back into my pussy. You could hear the squelching of my juices being pumped in and out from Jessica’s fingers.

“I’m cumming all over your fingers, Jess, fuck,” I moaned in pleasure.

A few moments later, I came all over her fingers. Jessica put both fingers in her mouth.

“I knew you’d taste amazing. Good girl”, Jessica smirked.

“Ohh yeah, girls, my pussy is so wet for you.” The girl next to us orgasmed too.

“Did we really just do that?” I panted, catching my breath.

Jessica gave me a long, hard kiss, interlocking her tongue with mine.

“Let’s go; Tom needs a good seeing too next,” I laughed, smacking Jessica’s ass as she opened the toilet door.

“Please don’t go. Can I tempt you to show me your pussies?” The woman said, walking towards our cubicle.

“Come on in, if you’re gentle,” Jessica giggled.

“Well, I can’t make any promises,” the mystery woman replied.

“Oh, by the way, my name is Liv,” Liv continued.

It’s a Friday night in June, and Dukes, our local music venue, is heaving.

The place reeks of sweat, leather, spilt beer and whisky. ‘The pit’, the small audience area six or so steps below the bar area, is absolutely heaving with bodies. Tonight’s band Shameless isn’t a tribute band, but they are paying homage big time to all the glorious Los Angeles hair metal bands of the 80s.

They look the part. More eyeliner than most of the girls here and more cheap silk scarves than a tart’s boudoir. All four guys are rail thin, covered in tattoos, have long hair, and have wrists festooned in cheap bangles and bracelets.

They sound great too. This little corner of old London Town has been magically transformed into our own Whisky a GoGo, circa 1985, for the night.

Granted, most of the songs these guys are playing came out a good ten years before I was born, but I’m a true fan, thanks to my parents.

My friends Lacey and Gemma and I are in our usual spot. We’re sitting on stools at one of the tall tables near the bar. The bar area is on the same level as the stage, the audience pit being sunk lower. This means we get a great view without being part of the crush.

No boyfriends tonight; it’s a girls’ night out, and we’re already three drinks deep. Laughter, idle chat, booze and the week’s stresses are already drifting away.

“Typical,” I think to myself. “I’m finally here without my fella, and she’s nowhere to be seen.”

The ‘she’ in question is the cute, petite, curly-haired blonde that I’ve seen in here most Fridays for the last six months or so.

We’ve eye-fucked each other like crazy. Seductive smiles, lip bites. Glances over shoulders. But neither of us has plucked up the courage to make a first move. Not that the opportunity has actually arisen yet, but one lives in hope.

As Gemma hops off of her stool to go buy us another round, my eyes follow her to the bar. There she is, gorgeous as ever. Her long hair flowing down her back in gorgeous loose curls.

Usually she’s all ripped fishnets, combat boots and heavy dark eye makeup. But tonight, she’s in a pretty little skater dress with a denim jacket and pristine black Converse hi-tops. She looks utterly beautiful. She can’t be a day over twenty-two, compared to my thirty.

She’s with two older women who both bear a strong resemblance to her. I’m guessing her mum and maybe an aunt who were fans of this stuff the first time around. They make a very attractive trio, I have to say.

We catch each other’s eye, and she gives me an adorable, discreet little wave before joining the two older ladies at the bar.

As the band rocks through its first set of the evening, we’re constantly looking at one another, smiles, squints, the full arsenal coming into play.

The band launch into Ten Seconds to Love by Mötley Crüe, and I mouth the words like I’m singing along. But my eyes are locked on hers the whole time, giving her what I hope is a mischievous grin as I ‘sing along’. She does a sexy little hip swing, and I blatantly claw my fingernails up my bare thigh, ending at the hem of my Daisy Duke shorts.

Emboldened by booze and adrenaline, I make a decision.

“I need the loo,” I yell in Gemma’s ear before slinging back the shot that’s next to my beer glass. “Back in a mo.”

I slide off of my stool and make my way to the doorway to the customer toilets.

‘God, I hope she gets the hint and follows me,’ I think to myself as I shoot a glance in her direction. Okay, so a ladies’ loo isn’t exactly romantic, but I so desperately want to know this beautiful girl better.

Thankfully the ladies’ is empty for now. Most of the females here tonight are cramped up at the front of the pit. Re-enacting their bygone, slutty groupie days.

I lean on a sink, keeping an eye on the door in the mirror. And sure enough, my sexy little mystery blonde soon peeps around the door. She seems a bit more confident now she realises we are alone.

I lean back, my bum resting on the sink unit, and I gaze at her, biting my lip.

“Hi, I’m Jodie,” I whisper breathily, my voice shaky with excitement.

“I can’t be long,” she whispers back. “I’m with my mum, so I’ve got to be quick, but fuck, I fancy you.”

She advances on me quickly. “Fucking hell, you’re so pretty,” I just about manage to say before she tiptoes up and kisses me.

It’s hot, urgent, and utterly exquisite as she eagerly curls her tongue around mine.

I pull away and begin to slowly back into a cubicle. I teasingly unbutton my shorts, showing her my little lace thong.

“I…err, still have to pee,” I tease, easing the tiny cutoffs over my hips as I enter the cubicle facing her.

She playfully pushes me backwards and slips inside with me, locking the door.

She kisses me again, hooking her fingers into the waistband of my knickers, pulling them to my knees.

‘Fuck it!’ I think and kick off my shorts and knickers, leaving me in just my tee shirt and sneakers. This gives her an unobstructed view of my naked pussy. Just a little red tuft above my otherwise shaved slit. I don’t need to pee; it’s just an excuse to get my knickers off for her. I want her, and I want her to know it.

“Ooh, the rug and the drapes match,” she whispers huskily, “I fucking love gingers, and you are fucking gorgeous.”

She hoists her dress up over her hips. And then hurriedly lifts the hem up, taking it all the way off. She gives me the most lewd view of her arse as she hangs it on the door peg. Oh my god, her body is exquisite; her legs and thighs look amazing. And I’m thrilled to see a complete lack of underwear. Fuck!

I can’t resist; I reach out to caress her impossibly smooth pussy as she claims my lips again, pushing me against the cubicle wall.

I keep my fingertips on her pussy, rubbing her in soft, slow circles, feeling her wetness gather on my fingertips. I couldn’t quite believe that I was in a more or less public toilet with a girl I didn’t even know, and I was stroking her so intimately. She hasn’t even told me her name yet.

“Are you going to pee or what?” she asks. “Coz… that would be so fucking hot if you did.”

I chuckle, “I think that’s at least a first date thing, don’t you? At least tell me your na…”

Before I can finish the sentence, she stops my mouth with a hot, deep kiss. She slides one hand up my top to maul at my breasts, while the other mirrors the actions of my own hand, which is happily lodged between her legs.

We’re just a hot, sweaty mass of rocking hips, interlocked arms and wet mouths as we frantically make out. Fingering each other into a lather.

“Fucking hell, I want you,” I growl. Fuck her name, fuck waiting. I shove her back against the opposite wall.

My body is vibrating as I drop to my knees, kissing every inch of her silky skin on the way down. Jesus Christ, I can smell her pussy, musky, hot and most definitely ready for what’s coming next.

She tangles her fingers into my hair, gazing down into my eyes; she lifts one Converse-clad foot onto the toilet bowl and purrs the words.

“Be a good girl and lick my pussy, would you? Please?”

I don’t need asking twice. I lick up her creamy inner thigh, collecting the sexy trail of her juices that’s dripping toward me on the way.

“Yesss, fuuck, yesss,” she hisses, as I grab at her pretty bum, hauling her tight to my lips as I hungrily slide my tongue into her baby smooth cunt.

She’s so fucking smooth and almost impossibly wet. I make out with her pussy just like it’s her mouth, my lips caressing her lust-swollen labia, stroking her clit, my tongue painting a masterpiece inside her. Fuck, she tastes as good as she looks.

My red-painted nails claw into her arse cheeks; her fingers twist, grabbing my hair, pulling me into her. She’s frantically fucking my mouth, her body banging against the cubicle wall, her breath coming in short, laboured gasps. She’s close, and I’m going in for the kill.

Time for the ‘coup de grâce’. As I slide a pussy-slicked finger up her arse, I feel her stiffen.

“Fuuuck, shh…shit…yessss,” my pretty little blonde goes off like a rocket on the Fourth of July. She’s bucking, heaving, wiping her pretty pussy all over my face.

This has honestly been the sleaziest, most thrilling experience of my sex life.

“Shit!” she exclaims, killing the moment stone dead. “I have to get back to my mum.”

She sounds a little worried and hurriedly gets dressed. She leans down to kiss my pussy-soaked lips and smiles.

“Meet me in The Kings Head. Tomorrow night, eight o’clock, please.”

And she’s gone. And I’m alone on the cubicle floor in nothing but my tee shirt and Vans.

I pick up my shorts and knickers. Hurriedly dressing, it doesn’t even occur to me to look in the mirror as I leave the Ladies Room.

I hop back up onto my stool; Gemma and Lacey stare at me incredulously.

“Where the hell have you been?” demands Lacey.

Followed by, “And what in the ever-loving fuck have you been up to?” from Gemma.

I’m guessing my makeup is fucked, and I must look a mess.

I grin, take a long, much-needed swig of beer. I drain the glass and grab my purse to go buy another. I smile at my friends, waving my fingers over their glasses. A silent offer for another round.

“See that blonde over there?” I point out my mystery partner. “Well, she never even told me her name.”

The sun crept in through the louvered shutters, casting long, lazy shadows on the whitewashed walls of the villa. As Emily woke up, it took a few seconds to shake off her ‘travel fogginess’. Slowly, it all came back into focus for her. She was in the villa’s bedroom on the last day of her holiday on Koh Phangan. She smiled to herself as her memories of Maya over the two previous days came flooding back.

The soft touch of Maya’s hands on her skin, the gentle scent of frangipani in her hair, and the taste of her sweet lips. She could still feel the warmth of her body pressed against hers, in the heat of their passion. But with those memories also came a wave of guilt, gnawing at the edges of her pleasure. She knew she would had to confess to John, to set things right before they went home.

John was still asleep, his back rising and falling softly with each breath. She watched him for a moment, taking in his strong jawline, the sprinkle of grey in his dark hair. He was a good man, a great husband and she hated the deceit of it all.

She rolled onto her side, her dark hair fanning out on the pillow. The movement was enough to wake John up. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her directly in the eyes and smiled. The kind of smile that had first drawn her to him all those years ago.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said softly, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

‘My god,’ she thought to herself, ‘I’ve got to resolve this. I really need to confess everything to John – and it’s needs to be soon.’ She pondered the intricacies of her situation, her mind racing with thoughts of how to approach the conversation with John later in the day.

“Good morning,” she replied, her voice soft. She reached out her hand to him, her fingers tracing patterns on chest.

John leaned over and kissed her softly. “Morning,” he replied. “So this is our last day, huh?”

Emily sighed. “Last day. I’d almost forgotten,” she lied. She stretched, arching her back, and felt the lingering ache in her muscles. Not from a bad night’s sleep, but from that wonderful ‘session’ she’d had with Maya the day before. The memories of their encounter flooded back to her, making her cheeks flush. She was grateful that the lighting in the room was dim.

He reached out, tracing a finger along her collarbone. “You okay?”

Emily quickly controlled her features. “Yeah, just… just thinking about how I’m going to miss this place.” She gestured vaguely around the room, her eyes lingering on the exotic flowers in the vase by the window.

John gave her a curious look, but let it slide. “We could come back, you know. No reason this has to be a one-time thing.”

She smiled, grateful for his suggestion.

“I like the sound of that. Maybe next time, we could stay a bit longer.”

John nodded, watching her closely. He could sense something was on her mind, but he didn’t push. Instead, he changed the subject. “I was thinking we could maybe check out the local market today. You know, pick up some souvenirs, try some street food.”

Emily’s eyes lit up at the thought. “That sounds like a plan. I’ve been craving some mango sticky rice.”

John laughed. “Well, today’s your lucky day then. I saw a stall near the market entrance that had the most amazing looking mangoes. Plus, the lady running it had a smile that could light up the entire resort.” John teased, trying to coax Emily out of her reverie.

Emily chuckled, her guilt momentarily pushed aside. “You’re impossible. You know that?”

John shrugged playfully. “Just trying to make the most of our last day here. Besides, who doesn’t love mangoes and a friendly smile?”

Emily’s smile faded slightly as she thought about Maya’s smile. It had been warm, inviting, and so much more.

Emily quickly pushed the thought away, focusing back on John. “You’re right. Let’s make today count.”

They got ready and wondered down to the hotel’s open-air beachfront restaurant where they took their time over breakfast. The breeze carried with it the distant hum of waves crashing against the shore, a soothing melody that complemented the bird songs echoing through the trees. They ate fresh fruit, crispy pastries, and strong coffee, their conversation light and easy.

As they finished up, Emily noticed a familiar figure walking along the beach towards them. It was Maya, dressed in a flowing silk dress and a large-brimmed hat. It must be her day off as this was obviously not her usual work attire.

Emily’s heart skipped a beat, her palms dampening instantly. She quickly looked away, but not before catching Maya’s gaze. Maya smiled at her, a small, secretive smile that sent a shiver down Emily’s spine.

John, oblivious to the silent exchange, waved at Maya. “Hey, Maya! Would you like to join us?”

Emily looked at him, panic rising. She opened her mouth to protest, but Maya beat her to it.

“Thank you, but I’ve got a busy morning ahead. I just wanted to say goodbye and wish you both a safe trip home.” Maya’s voice was warm and friendly, her eyes lingering on Emily for a moment too long.

Emily felt her cheeks grow hot, but she managed a smile. “Oh, of course. Thank you, Maya. It was… it was great meeting you. It really enjoyed that massage you treated me to the other day.”

Maya’s smile broadened, and she gave a slight nod, as if acknowledging a shared secret. “You too, Emily. Enjoy your last day here.” Maya’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Emily, before turning to John. “And you, John, take care of this one. She’s special.”

John smiled, patting Emily’s hand. “I will. Thanks, Maya. And please say goodbye to Noon for me, won’t you.”

“Of course I will,” Maya replied as she continued on her walk.

As Maya walked away, Emily let out a soft sigh, her fingers nervously playing with her coffee cup.

John noticed her unease. “Everything okay?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

Emily forced a smile. “Yes, of course. Just, you know… just a touch of the ‘last day blues’.”

John studied her for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah, I get it. But hey, at least we’ve got a whole day to soak it all in, right?” 

Emily nodded, trying to shake off the lingering tension. “Right. So, what’s on the agenda after breakfast?”

John grinned. “Well, I was thinking we could start with a little swim – you’ve got your bikini on under your sundress, haven’t you? We could head off from here straight to that hidden cove I’ve been dying to check out. It’s supposed to be amazing.”

Emily’s eyes lit up at the thought. “That sounds perfect. I could use a swim to wake me up fully,” she said, standing up from the breakfast able. She looked out at the sea, the turquoise water sparkling under the sun, inviting her to dive in.

John led the way, walking past their villa until they reached the hidden cove. The sand was warm beneath their feet, and the sea breeze carried with it the scent of salt and sunscreen. As they approached the water, Emily slipped off her sundress, revealing a black bikini that accentuated her curves. She felt a pang of guilt, remembering Maya’s hands on her body, but quickly pushed it aside. This was her husband, her partner, and she was with him now. She waited for John to turn around before diving into the water, the cool saltwater a welcome shock to her system.

They swam out to the cove, the water crystal clear and teeming with fish. The rocks formed a natural barrier, creating a private little sanctuary. Emily felt a sense of peace wash over her as she floated on her back, looking up at the sky.

John swam over to her and treaded water, looking at her with a playful grin.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should start our own little tradition. Last day of the holiday, we find a hidden cove to swim in.”

Emily smiled back, splashing water at him. “I like it. It’s got a nice ring to it.”

They spent a few more minutes exploring the cove, their bodies close in the water, the rhythm of their movements in sync. They swam back to the shore and when they were close enough in to stand on the seafloor beneath them, John reached out and grabbed Emily’s hand, pulling her close for a kiss. It was soft and tender, a reminder of their years together, their love a beacon in the ebb and flow of life.

Emily kissed him back, feeling a warmth spread through her, a warmth that wasn’t just from the sun. She loved John, deeply and truly, and these moments of connection were as essential to her as the air she breathed.

They emerged from the water hand in hand, the sun drying their skin as they walked back to their villa. The path was lined with lush greenery and colourful flowers that swayed gently in the breeze, adding a vibrant backdrop to their stroll.

As they reached the villa, John suggested, “How about a quick shower and then we head to the market? I’m starting to get hungry again.”

Emily grinned. “You’re always hungry. But you’re right, I could certainly do with rinsing off this saltwater.”

They stripped out of their swimwear and stepped into the  villa’s ‘His and Hers’ showers, the villa’s open-air design allowing the sea breeze to waft through, carrying with it the scent of frangipani and the distant hum of the waves.

Emily stepped under the warm shower, the water cascading over her, washing away the salt and the lingering guilt from her encounters with Maya. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the present, on the day with John.

Yet, her mind would always drift back to Maya, the way her hands had moved with such precision and care, the way her lips had tasted like sugarcane and passion fruit. She shook her head, steeling herself against the memory.

John was waiting for her in the living area when she emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped turban-style around her hair. He was dressed in a simple white linen shirt and khaki shorts, looking every bit the adventurous traveller. He turned as she entered, a smile spreading across his face.

“You look fresh,” he commented, standing up to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Ready for our adventure?”

Emily smiled and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

John took her hand and said, “Great. I can’t wait to sample some of that street food we’ve heard so much about.”

“Give me just a second,” Emily said, as she walked over to the wardrobe to pick out a casual sundress. She slipped it on, the light cotton fabric comfortable against her still-damp skin.

John watched her, his eyes lingering on her curves.

He felt a familiar spark of attraction, but there was something more, something different. A sense of curiosity that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He shook his head slightly, dismissing the thought, and focused on the present.

“So, what do you think we should try first at the market? I’m thinking of those little coconut pancakes filled with palm sugar. I’ve been craving them since we got here,” Emily said, tying her hair back into a loose ponytail.

“I was thinking the same thing. And maybe we could grab some of those fresh mangoes. I know you’ve been eyeing them since we arrived,” John replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Emily laughed. “Guilty as charged. I mean, how can you resist those perfectly ripe mangoes? There’s always something a little sensual about the feel of a ripe mango, don’t you think?”

John chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no?”

They headed out, the sun high in the sky, casting dappled shadows through the dense canopy of leaves overhead. The market was a riot of colours and smells, a sensory explosion that Emily loved.

They wandered through the crowded stalls, John holding her hand, their fingers entwined. The air was filled with the scent of spices, sweet fruits, and the faint whiff of exotic flowers.

John led them to a stall piled high with fresh mangoes. The vendor, a small, wrinkled woman with a broad smile, stacked them in neat pyramids. She greeted them warmly.

“You like mango? Best mango in Thailand. You try, you see,” she said, offering them a slice. “No charge for try.”

Emily took the proffered mango slice, her eyes widening as she bit into it. The juices exploded in her mouth, a symphony of sweet and tart, rich and refreshing. And she couldn’t help but think of Maya as those sweet juices hit the back of her mouth.

“Oh my god, John,” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “This is incredible. We have to get some of these.”

John nodded, smiling at the vendor. “How much for four?”

The vendor named a price that was more than fair, and John handed over the money, bagging the mangoes himself.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing slightly to the old woman, who grinned and touched his arm.

“You come back,” she said. “I have special treat for you.”

John smiled and nodded. “We will, thank you.” wondering what the hell her special treat could be!

They continued their exploration of the market, sampling various street foods and marvelling at the array of wares on offer. Emily’s eyes lit up as they passed a stall laden with intricately carved wooden masks. She ran her fingers over the cool, smooth surfaces, admiring the craftsmanship.

“These are stunning,” she murmured. “Look at the details on this one.” She picked up a mask depicting a serene woman with flowing hair and almond-shaped eyes.

John admired it, his eyes following her fingers as they traced the delicate carvings. “It’s beautiful. You should get it.”

Emily looked up at him, her eyes shining with excitement. “You think so?”

John nodded. “Definitely. It’s unique, and the craftsmanship is amazing.”

Emily’s smile broadened as she murmured, “It’s perfect.” She turned to the vendor, a young man with a shy smile and eager eyes. “How much?” she asked, gesturing to the mask.

The vendor named his price, and Emily nodded, handing over the money. The vendor carefully wrapped the mask in tissue paper and placed it in a sturdy paper bag.

“Thank you,” Emily said, taking the bag. “I love it.”

John smiled, his hand resting lightly on the small of Emily’s back as they continued their journey through the market. “I’m glad you found something to take home. A memento to remind you of this amazing holiday.” Of course, the irony of what he’d just said was lost on him.

Emily nudged him gently with her elbow. “You know, I think this might be the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time.”

John looked at her, his eyes warm and soft. “Me too. It’s just… nice. To be here with you, no pressure, no deadlines. Just us and the beauty of this place. Just us two together.”

Emily leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as they walked. “I couldn’t agree more,” she replied, trying to ignore those feelings of guilt that were still lingering in the back of her mind. She pushed them aside, determined to enjoy this moment with John.

They strolled leisurely, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the market, before deciding it was time to head back to the hotel to relax at their villa’s private pool. The day was heating up, and the cool water was calling their names.

As they walked back, Emily felt a sense of contentment wash over her. The day had been perfect—a blend of adventure, relaxation, and togetherness. She looked up at John, his face tanned from the sun and his eyes sparkling with happiness. She knew he felt it too.

***********************************

Back at the villa, they quickly changed into their swimwear and headed out to the pool. The water was refreshing, a stark contrast to the warm air. They swam laps for a while, their bodies slicing through the water in unison.

Emily loved the feel of the water against her skin, the sun warming her back as she glided along. She turned on her back, floating on the surface, and looked up at the sky. The clouds were a puffy white against the brilliant blue, and the palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows onto the water.

John swam up beside her, treading water and looking down at her. “You look so peaceful,” he said, a soft smile on his lips.

Emily smiled back at him. “I feel it. This place has a way of making you relax, doesn’t it?”, she replied, feeling more at ease with herself. But she still couldn’t rid herself of those passionate memories from the day before with Maya. She knew that eventually she would have to confess everything to her husband and just pray that he would be understanding. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardise their marriage.

As John’s gaze lingered on her, Emily felt a familiar heat rise within her, a heat that was both comforting and unsettling.

John’s eyes flickered as he watched Emily, her body glistening with water and sunscreen. He reached out, his hand caressing her arm, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. “You’re so beautiful, Emily,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky. “Inside and out.”

Emily turned her head to look at him, her eyes searching his. ” John,” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a mix of emotions swirling inside her—guilt, desire, and a deep-seated love for her husband. She knew she couldn’t keep her secret from him any longer.

John’s hand moved up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a drop of water that clung to her skin. “What is it, sweetheart? You seem… preoccupied.”

Emily took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to confess. “John, I… I need to tell you something. Something that happened here, at this resort.” Emily’s voice was barely audible over the gentle lapping of the pool water against the tiles.

John’s brow furrowed, concern etched on his face. He laid his other hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, what’s wrong? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Emily swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze as she confessed, “Well, I had… an encounter. With Maya.”

John’s hand stilled on her arm, his eyes widening in surprise. “Maya? The masseuse?” John asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

Emily nodded, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. “Yes. It started when she was giving me my massage. She offered to… well, give me a little bit of an ‘extra’ if I wanted.” Emily’s words tumbled out in a rush, her eyes focused on a point somewhere over John’s shoulder. She couldn’t bear to see his reaction. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, and her breath caught as she waited for his response.

John was silent for a moment, and Emily could feel the weight of his gaze. She finally looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. She saw the surprise in his eyes, but something else as well. Something that made her heart leap—curiosity.

John’s hand moved from her arm, tracing the line of her collarbone, his touch light and almost reverent.

“Maya, huh?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Emily nodded, her eyes locked onto his. Depending on how he took this piece of bombshell news would determine whether she would feel brave enough to confess the following day’s session she’d had with Maya.

“Yes, Maya,” she confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breaths coming in short gasps. She waited, her body tense, for John’s reaction.

John was silent for a moment longer, his gaze searching her face. Emily could see the wheels turning in his mind, the shock and surprise still evident, but also the ‘something else’ that she’d noticed before—a glint of curiosity, a spark of something unexpected.

“What did you do?” John asked, his voice low and steady. He was careful, cautious, as if treading on unstable ground.

“So, what did you do, Emily?” John repeated, his voice steady, almost calm.

Emily took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She realised that her next words could either shatter her or set them on a new path. She looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of anger or disgust. Instead, she saw curiosity, maybe even a hint of arousal. It gave her the courage to continue.

“I… I let her. I wanted her to touch me, John. I wanted her to… do things to me. Things I’ve never thought I’d ever do with another woman.” Emily’s voice was barely above a whisper, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire.

John was silent for a moment, his hand still resting on Emily’s shoulder. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his attention. She braced herself, waiting for his response, her heart pounding in her chest.

Finally, John spoke. “And… did you enjoy it?” His voice was low, almost a growl, his eyes dark with an emotion Emily couldn’t quite place. It sent a shiver down her spine.

She hesitated before nodding, her eyes locked onto his. “Yes, John. I enjoyed it, it was… absolutely unbelievably amazing.”

John caught his breath, and Emily could see the effect her confession was having on him. His eyes darkened, a mix of surprise and arousal swirling in their depths. He swallowed hard, his hand moving from her shoulder to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Wow, Emily. That’s…that’s intense.”

Emily looked away, her cheeks still flushed, her nerves getting the better of her. “I know. I didn’t plan for it to happen, John. But it did, and now I… I feel it’s only right that I should tell you. You deserve to know.”

John’s thumb moved to her chin, gently encouraging her to look at him again. His eyes were intense, his gaze penetrating. “I wish you had told me sooner, Emily. But I’m glad you’re telling me now.”

Emily’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of anger or disapproval.

She found none. Instead, she saw a raw, primal desire that made her catch her breath.

“You’re not angry with me?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

John shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, Emily. I’m not angry. I’m… well, I think I’m fascinated.”

Emily’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Fascinated? By what?”

John’s hand moved from her chin, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. “By you. By this side of you that I’ve never seen before.”

‘Was this the appropriate time to confess that she’d also met up with Maya yesterday while he was away at the golf club,’ Emily wondered to herself. ‘Maybe not, better to give him more time to let it all sink in gradually. After all, yesterday’s activities were so much more than that first day.’ The memories of their time together were fresh and intense, far too much to divulge all at once. Emily knew that much.

John’s eyes were now alight with curiosity and something more, something that made Emily breathe more easily. “I like this side of you, Emily. I like that you’re exploring, that you’re experiencing new things. I’ve always thought you were too timid in this respect.”

Emily felt a warmth spread through her at his words. She hadn’t expected this reaction from him, but she was grateful for it. She took a deep breath, her heart still pounding. “But, John… I feel guilty. I love you, and here I am, confessing that I… I cheated on you.” Emily’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes filling with tears. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

John’s hand moved to her chin, gently guiding her face back to him. His eyes were soft, understanding. “Hey, look at me,” he said gently. “You didn’t cheat on me, Emily. You explored something new, something you wanted to try. That’s not… well, maybe it is… but… fuck, I just can’t find the words I need to explain what I’m trying to say!”

Emily searched his face, looking for any sign of deception. She saw none. “But… but I did something with someone else. Without you.”

John nodded, acknowledging her point. “And that’s okay, These things sometimes happen, Emily. And I’ve always thought you should spread your wings a little. You know I’ve always thought of you as ‘my little innocent’, don’t you.”

‘My god,’ thought Emily, ‘he won’t think I’m so innocent when he hears what I did with Mayo yesterday.’

John’s hands moved to grip her shoulders, his touch firm and reassuring.

“I’m not going to lie, Emily. This is a lot to take in. But I’m also not going to deny that I find it a fucking turn on.”

Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “A fucking turn on?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

John nodded, his lips brushing against hers. “Yeah, it does. The thought of you with another woman… it’s so fucking arousing.” He paused, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “And I want to know more. Why don’t we go back inside, make ourselves comfortable and you can tell me every single detail of what you and Maya did with each other?” John suggested, his voice thick with desire.

Emily couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. John wanted to know more. He was turned on by her confession. She felt a surge of heat between her legs at the thought.

“John, are you sure?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

John nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Yes, Emily. I want to know every single little detail. What she did to you, what you did to her. I want to picture it in my mind. I want to see it all.” John’s voice was low and husky, his eyes dark with desire.

Emily could see in John’s eyes that he meant every word. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say.

“Alright, let’s go inside then,” she said, slowly climbing out of the pool. John followed suit, his eyes never leaving hers.

He grabbed two towels from the deck chair and wrapped one around Emily’s shoulders before draping the other around himself.

“Lead the way,” he said, his voice thick with anticipation.

Emily walked ahead of him, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves, excitement, and still a touch of guilt – but that was fading fast. She couldn’t believe that this was happening, but at the same time, she was incredibly turned on by the idea.

They entered the villa, the cool air inside a stark contrast to the heat outside. Emily led John to the bedroom, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the towel around her body. She let it fall to the floor, and then slowly removed her bikini top, her eyes never leaving John’s. Then, oh so slowly, she swayed her hips as she stepped out of her bikini bottom.

John watched, admiring her perfect body as she revealed her curves to him. He felt a surge of desire, unlike anything he had felt before. This was his wife, his partner, and yet, he felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

Emily lay back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “So, where do I start?”

John sat down on the bed next to her, his eyes never leaving hers. “Start from the beginning. Talk me all the way through that massage. The massage where I was lying just 6 feet away from you,” John said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes focused entirely on Emily. She could see the tension in his body, the anticipation written all over his face.

Emily took a deep breath, her mind racing as she tried to remember every detail. She wanted to paint a vivid picture for John, to make him feel like he was experiencing it all with her.

“Well, it started when Maya was giving me my massage. You remember Maya asked Noon to turn the background music up, right?” Emily asked, her voice soft and steady. “Well, that was just after she’d whispered to me, ‘Would you like me to do a little bit of ‘extra’ exploring of your body? Squeeze my hand if you would like that.’ And I squeezed her hand, John. I just couldn’t resist the idea of that gorgeous young girl exploring my intimate parts,” Emily said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes locked onto John’s.

“And what did she do then?” John asked, his voice thick with anticipation.

“She continued massaging the small of my back, and then, her fingers dipped lower, tracing the curve of my ass. I felt a shiver run through me.”

John’s eyes were focused on Emily’s face, taking in every detail, every expression. He could see the memories playing out behind her eyes, and it turned him on even more. “And then what? What did she do?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

Emily took a deep breath, her body flushing with heat as she recalled the memory.

“She whispered something else, something about how beautiful my ass was, and then she… she started to move lower. Slowly, so slowly, her fingers tracing the curve of my hip, my thigh, until they reached the apex of my legs. She ran her fingers so teasingly close to my pussy lips, so gently, giving me the chance to back out if I wanted. Then she parted my folds, and I felt her fingertip brush against my clit. Just a soft touch, but it sent shivers through me. I gasped, and she smiled, a small, secret smile.” Emily’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, but the intensity in her eyes was unmistakable.

John felt his cock twitch at the thought of Maya’s fingers on his wife, exploring her most intimate places. He shifted on the bed, his erection growing painful under his swimming trunks.

“Did she… did she touch you more?” John asked, his voice hoarse with need. He reached out, cupping Emily’s cheek, his thumb brushing against her hot skin.

Emily nodded, her eyes never leaving John’s. “She slid one finger between my folds, just barely inside me. I could sense her hesitance, like she was waiting for a sign, waiting for permission.”

John caught his breath, his cock throbbing at the image.

“Did you give it to her, Emily?” He leaned in, his voice a low growl, his eyes dark with desire.

Emily swallowed hard, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. She nodded, her eyes locked onto John’s. “I think opening my legs wider and moaning with pleasure were all she needed from me.” She paused, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “And then she pushed her finger in deeper, slowly at first, giving me time to adjust. Then she started to move, slowly, gently, in and out, her thumb circling my clit. It felt… fucking amazing, John.” Emily’s voice was a low moan, her eyes fluttering closed as she recalled the sensation.

John watched as a blush crept up Emily’s neck, spreading across her chest and down to her breasts. He could see her nipples hardening, and he felt his cock twitch in response.

“What did she do next?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. He reached out, tracing the line of her collarbone with his fingertips, feeling her shiver under his touch.

Emily opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto John’s. “She started to move faster, her fingers fucking me harder, deeper. It was such an effort to keep quiet, John. I was panting, trying to keep my moans to a whisper. And then she leaned in, her breath hot on my ear. She whispered something in my ear, something about how beautiful I was, how much she wanted me.” Emily’s voice was a low moan, her body squirming slightly on the bed.

John’s cock was now painfully hard. He reached down and adjusted himself, trying to find some relief. He was turned on beyond belief, his wife’s words painting a vivid picture in his mind.

“What did she say, Emily?” John’s voice was thick with desire, his eyes never leaving hers. He could see the effect recalling this for him was having on her, the way her body squirmed slightly on the bed, the soft moans that were escaping her lips.

Emily’s eyes fluttered closed as she recalled Maya’s whispered words.

“Well, first of all she slipped her finger out of me with a wet slurp. I whined, missing her touch already. Then she leaned down close to my ear and whispered, ‘We’ve only about 10 minutes, 15 max, of this session left. Is there anything else you’d like me to do before the session ends? What do you say?’ she asked. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, as I tried to find the perfect response. I finally whispered, ‘Do it,’ surrendering to the animalistic need that had taken over me since my first sight of Maya.”

“Do what?” John asked, his voice thick with anticipation.

“Finger my ass,” Emily whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I actually gave her permission to finger my asshole. Maya looked down at me and whispered, ‘Now, it’s time for the final act, my lovely.’ She poured oil over my ass and began to rub it in, her fingers trailing over my skin, making me shiver in anticipation. I could feel her finger circling my asshole, teasing it, pressing just a little bit. I tensed at first, but she just whispered, ‘Relax, my lovely. Just relax,’ and I did. I took a deep breath and let myself go, let myself sink into the sensation of her touch. She slipped her finger inside me, slowly, gently, and I gasped at the sudden fullness. ‘Relax,’ she whispered again, her voice soothing and reassuring. I took a deep breath and tried to relax, my body adjusting to the intrusion. She moved her finger slowly in and out, adding more oil, her touch measured and deliberate. I could feel every inch of her finger inside me.

“Did she make you cum?” John asked.

“No,” Emily smiled to herself at the recollection. “Do you remember you came through the curtain when your massage with Noon had finished?”

“Yes,” John replied with a confused look on his face. “Why?”

“Because I was right on the verge of cumming right at that point but your interruption was enough to stop it just like that!” Emily said with a click of her fingers. “She still had her finger deep in my ass under the sheet as you walked past me. You just had no idea.”

“Oh, so she hasn’t actually made you cum yet, then?” John asked.

Emily realised this was the moment she’d have to decide whether to confess to her second meeting with Maya, the next day.

She knew John’s reaction to the first encounter was positive, but how would he take it if she told him they’d met again in Maya’s room, and this time, they’d actually fucked each other passionately? Her mind raced, but she decided, fuck it! Confess everything now, get it all out in one go. It might be too much for him, but she owed him the truth.

“John, there’s more, and you might not like it,” Emily said with a sigh, her green eyes meeting his deep blue ones. “I had another, longer encounter with Maya yesterday.”

John’s eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean another encounter?”

 

“After you left for the golf club, I met Maya in her room. I wanted her to make me cum, John. I wanted her to fuck me. And I wanted to fuck her.”

John’s jaw dropped, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You…you… you are a little sly one, aren’t you,” he said, a hint of admiration in his voice. “Okay, keep going. I want to know every fucking detail. And when you’ve finished, I think I’m going to enjoy fucking you.”

Emily took a deep breath, her body trembling with a mix of excitement and anxiety. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but she also knew that she couldn’t keep this secret from John any longer.

“Okay – so I got a written message from her at breakfast, our waitress gave it to me with the tab. It was written on a piece of paper and just said ‘Room 26 – 11:30am – M.   xx’,” Emily explained. “I knew exactly what it meant. So, I went to her room at 11:30, she let me in and we made passionate love for the next couple of hours or so. It was fucking amazing, John. We tried every position you can think of and then some. We licked, sucked, fucked, and fucked some more.”

Emily’s voice was a low growl, her eyes never leaving John’s as she revealed the intimate details of her encounter with Maya. She could see the effect her words were having on John, the way his body was reacting to her confession.

She leaned towards him and reached for his cock, which was eager to be released.

“Is this turning you on, John? The thought of me with another woman? The thought of me fucking her, fucking her hard?” Emily asked, her voice dripping with desire as she slowly pulled down his trunks, revealing his rock hard cock.

John groaned as his cock sprang free, his hips thrusting forward slightly, eager for her touch. “Fuck, yes,” he growled. “The thought of you with another woman, another fucking hot woman… it’s making me so fucking hard, Emily.”

Emily wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking him slowly, her eyes locked onto his. “So, what would you like me to do now, John?” Emily asked, her voice a low purr as she continued to stroke his cock, her hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes. She knew what she wanted to do, but she wanted him to guide her, to tell her exactly what he wanted from her.

“I think you know what I’d like you to do, you little tease!” John growled, his eyes locked onto Emily’s, his hand fisting her hair. He pulled her head down, forcing her to take his cock deep into her mouth with a groan.

“Suck it, Emily. Suck my fucking cock,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust.

Emily moaned around his cock, her eyes watering as she took him deep. She loved the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he dominated her. She sucked him harder, her cheeks hollowing as she bobbed her head up and down.

John groaned, his hips thrusting forward, fucking her mouth.

Emily took him deeper, her nose pressing against his abdomen. She looked up at him, her eyes watering, mascara smudging down her cheeks.

“That’s it, baby. Take it all,” he grunted, his hand tightening in her hair. “Show me what a good little slut you are.”

Emily moaned around his cock, these new filthy words sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. It was so different from the way he usually was with her. This was so raw and primal.

Emily felt a surge of heat between her legs at the thought of John watching her with another woman, at the thought of him calling her a slut. She sucked him harder, her head bobbing up and down, her saliva dripping down his shaft.

“That’s right, Emily,” he growled. “Take it all. Show me what that dirty little mouth can do.”

Emily’s eyes watered as she took his entire length. She gagged slightly, but she didn’t stop. She relaxed her throat and took him deeper, feeling his cock hit the back of her throat.

John groaned, his hips thrusting forward, fucking her mouth with slow, deep strokes.

“Fuck, Emily. Look at you, you’re a changed woman. I like it,” John growled, his voice thick with lust. He watched as Emily continued to suck him, her eyes watering, her mascara running down her cheeks. He loved seeing her like this, dirty and desperate.

He reached down and cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing against her hard nipples. He pinched them, just hard enough to make her gasp around his cock. “You like that, don’t you?” he growled.

Emily nodded slightly. She could sense that he was nearing his climax, and the thought sent a wave of heat coursing through her. She wanted him to cum, wanted to feel his hot seed spilling down her throat. She quickened her pace, taking him deeper, sucking harder, her cheeks hollowing out as she worked him with her mouth.

John groaned. He could feel the familiar tingling sensation starting at the base of his spine, spreading outwards. He thrust his hips forward, fucking her mouth harder, his grip on her hair tightening.

“You’re going to make me cum. I can feel it.” He groaned, his hips thrusting harder, fucking her mouth with quick, short strokes.

Emily moaned. She could feel his cock swell even more, the veins standing out as he neared his climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” John groaned, as he released himself into Emily’s mouth. He held her head still, his cock buried deep in her throat, as he shot his load, his body convulsing with pleasure. He kept his grip on her hair tight, guiding her head back and forth, milking every last drop of cum from his cock.

Emily gagged slightly as John came, but she didn’t stop. She took every fucking drop of his cum, her throat working around his cock, swallowing it all down. She loved the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he fucked her mouth so roughly. She felt so damn dirty and used, and she found it such a fucking turn on.

John took a step back, his eyes raking over her body, appreciating the sight of her on her knees, his cum dripping from her mouth. “Fuck, Emily. You look so fucking hot like that.”

Emily’s body was on fire with lust. She was so turned on that she thought she might cum just from his words alone. She licked her lips, tasting his cum, and let out a soft moan. “I need you to make me cum, John,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I want to feel you inside me.”

John smirked, his cock limp, still dripping cum. “Get on the bed, Emily. On all fours.” His voice was commanding, and Emily obeyed without hesitation. She crawled onto the bed, her ass in the air, her pussy lips glistening with her arousal.

John walked around the bed, admiring the view from behind. He slapped her ass cheek, hard, and Emily jerked but didn’t cry out. “You look fucking incredible,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

He stepped closer, his hand gripping her other ass cheek, squeezing hard. “So, I didn’t realise you liked having your ass played with. That’s something Maya has introduced you to, is it?” John’s voice was a low rumble, his hands massaging Emily’s ass, his touch firm and possessive.

Emily nodded, a shiver running down her spine at the memory. “Yes, she fucked my ass every way imaginable. It was incredible, John. And I fucked hers too.”

“Did you now?” John said, an idea forming in his mind. He continued to massage Emily’s ass, his touch firm and possessive. “Do you know if she’s at work today? It looked to me as though it could be her day off when we saw her at breakfast, didn’t it?” John asked. “If she’s free, do you think she’d be up to giving you a farewell session?” he added, his hands continuing to massage Emily’s ass, his touch growing more aggressive with every passing moment.

Emily let out a soft moan, her body squirming under John’s touch. “I don’t know, John. But the thought of it… the thought of both of us fucking each other… in front of you… it’s driving me insane.”

John’s cock twitched at the thought. The thought of watching Maya touch his wife, of seeing Emily’s body writhe with pleasure at the hands of another woman, was so incredibly arousing. It was a fantasy that had often crossed his mind, but he had never expected it to be a reality. And yet, here it was, presented to him by his own wife.

“Well, why don’t you ask her?” John said, his voice low and husky. He could feel his cock stirring again at the mere thought. “Maybe she’d be interested. It could be a little going away present for our trip, so to speak.”

Emily turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “You…you’re okay with that? You want to watch me with her?”

John nodded, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Hell yeah, I’m okay with that. And fuck, do I want to watch you with her. The thought of seeing you two together… it’s making me so fucking hard again. Do you have her number? Why not give her a call now?” John said. “Ask her if she’s free. Explain that you’ve confessed all to me and  that it’s made me as horny as shit. See if she wants to come over.”

Emily hesitated for a moment, then reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found Maya’s number. She took a deep breath and then hit call.

Maya picked up on the third ring. “Hello, Emily?” her voice was smooth and seductive.

“Hi Maya, it’s me. Listen, I was wondering if you were free today. My husband and I have a… proposition for you. I’ve told him all about our relationship and he’s being really supportive about it.” Emily’s voice was a low purr, her eyes locked onto John’s as she spoke into the phone.

Maya’s voice was a low murmur on the other end of the line. “Oh, really? And what might this proposition be?”

Emily’s cheeks flushed, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked up at John, saw the hunger and anticipation in his eyes. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “John wants to watch us together. He wants to watch you and I… fuck each other.”

There was a pause, and then Maya’s voice was a low growl. “Is that so? And how do you feel about that, Emily?” Maya asked. Emily could picture her, a smirk on her face, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I… I want it. I’d love you to fuck me while he watches,” Emily admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her pussy clenching at the thought, her body already aching for Maya’s touch.

John watched as Emily’s eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in shallow gasps. He could see the desire in her face, the need.

Maya’s voice was a low growl in her ear. “Let’s do this. Sounds as though it could be a lot of fun!” Her voice was a low purr, her words laced with innuendo.

“Yes, it will be,” Emily said, her voice low and husky. “So, could you come round soon?”

“How about now? Is that soon enough for you?” Maya said, with a sultry purr.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Come over now. We’re in Villa 3,” Emily excitedly said.

“Oh, one of those fancy beach facing villas. Yes, I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Don’t you dare start without me,” Maya teased, before hanging up.

Emily looked at John, his eyes wide with anticipation. “She’ll be here in about 15 minutes.”

“Wow, 15 minutes – that’s perfect,” John said, a grin spreading across his face. “You know what, Emily? Let’s make the room perfect for her. You know – candles, diffusers, etc,” John suggested.

Emily nodded and immediately got to work. She lit a few candles and placed them around the room, the soft glow casting a warm ambiance. She grabbed the diffuser from the bathroom and filled it with a few drops of lavender oil, then placed it strategically on the dresser. She turned on some soft, sensual music on the in-house music system, letting the melodic tunes fill the room.

John watched her, admiring her confident strides as she prepared the room. He couldn’t believe how much he was looking forward to this encounter.

Suddenly, another thought came into John’s mind. “And you must put on your sexiest lingerie.”

“Which do you think is sexiest – the black set, or the white or red set?”, Emily asked.

“Definitely go for the black set, it always makes your tits look fucking incredible,” John replied.

Emily smiled and went to the wardrobe, pulling out the black lace underwear that John had bought her for Valentine’s Day. She slipped it on, admiring her reflection in the mirror. The lace clung to her curves perfectly, accentuating her voluptuous body. She turned to John, a smirk on her face and asked,  “How do I look?”

John’s eyes widened as he took her in. “Fucking amazing, Emily. You look so fucking sexy in that,” he growled.

Then, suddenly Emily looked panicked, “And you John – you must put something on. You can’t be standing there stark naked when she arrives. Quick,” she said with a touch of panic in her voice.

John nodded and quickly grabbed his swimming shorts, pulling them on just as the doorbell rang.

Emily’s heart leapt into her throat as she looked at John, her eyes wide with anticipation and a hint of trepidation as she walked to the door.

She took a deep breath and opened it with a beaming smile on her face.

The first thing I felt when I woke up wasn’t sunlight or the weight of the blanket — it was her warm fingers, slow and deliberate, rolling one of my nipples between them.

My eyes fluttered open, and there she was — Teagan — lying beside me, the sheet barely covering her hips, her tanned body lying on her side, looking at me… like she wanted to own me.

Her blue eyes locked onto mine the second I stirred, and I noted that familiar smirk from her lips.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice low and rough with sleep, but dripping with something else entirely — pure lust.

She continued rolling my nipple between her fingers, tugging lightly, making the fire inside of me stir.

“Couldn’t resist,” she added, her eyes dropping to my chest. “You looked too good lying here all delicious like.”

I was bare from the waist up, nipples already hard, ready for her to play with. The ache between my legs from last night hadn’t fully faded, and it was flaring right back to life.

Her hand slid lower, fingers tracing along my stomach, over my waist, teasing the dip of my hip. Her mouth followed, lips pressing a soft, warm kiss to my collarbone, then lower, her breath hot against my skin, making me melt.

I let out a shaky exhale, my body already reacting, the dull throb between my thighs building fast. Her tongue began licking my nipple before sucking it gently into her mouth. 

Her sucking on my nipple sent a pulse straight through me. I arched toward her, my hands sliding into her soft, messy blonde hair as she sucked harder, teasing with her tongue.

“Was this an ok way to wake you up?” she teased, her voice soft, sensual.

In response, I slid my hand between her thighs, finding it already wet, waiting for me — slick, warm, wanting.

A slow, soft exhale, her hips pressing into my hand.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my fingers teasing her slowly, spreading her lips open and sliding through her slit. “Wide awake.”

Her laugh was low, breathy, and then her mouth was back on me — kissing down my chest, licking along my stomach, her hand sliding down to part my thighs.

There was no hesitation this time, no shyness — just raw, hungry confidence. Her fingers teased along my slit, spreading me open as her mouth followed, her tongue licking lightly over my clit.

I moaned softly, my hips shifting toward her mouth, the sleepy haze completely burned away by the gift of her tongue all over me.

She licked me with slow, lazy strokes at first — teasing, tasting — then her tongue flattened, circling my clit with steady, relentless pressure that had me wanting more, more.

My thighs trembled as her fingers slid inside me — two this time — curling perfectly, zeroing in on that spot inside that made my whole body react.

“God, you’re so fucking wet already,” Teagan whispered, her voice low, wicked.

I couldn’t form words — just fisted the sheets, breath ragged, as her fingers worked me over, fast, relentless, the orgasm building like a storm I couldn’t hold back.

“Teagan… fuck… don’t stop…” I gasped, my voice raw, broken.

She didn’t. Her fingers kept driving into me, faster, rougher, working my G-spot — and when my hips bucked, the wave snapped loose, crashing through me as a hot stream squirted past the side of her head.

My whole body locked up, the climax tearing through me, a strangled cry ripping from my throat. But she didn’t stop. She kept going — fingers attacking my G-spot like she was determined to break me.

She slowed for barely a minute, teasing, giving me the illusion of a break — then her fingers dove right back in, deliberate, focused, grinding into my G-spot until my body convulsed again.

The second wave slammed into me hard — my back arched, head pressing into the pillow, a guttural groan, and another messy stream squirted out of me, soaking the sheets.

“Okay, okay… I need a break…” I panted, struggling for air.

“No, not yet,” she smirked, her eyes dark, dangerous — and immediately her fingers slammed back inside, relentless.

The pressure built fast — too fast — and then I was gone again. The wave tore through me, my whole body jerking, thighs trembling, another hot stream shooting from my pussy, soaking everything — Teagan included.

“Break… break…” I gasped, shaking.

This time her fingers eased out of me. She kissed along my thighs, slow, soft, wicked — letting me catch my breath.

When I finally opened my eyes, she was crawling back up beside me. Her face still glistening from the absolute mess she’d just made of me. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, my body still trembling from the relentless way she’d worked me over — no breaks, no mercy, just fingers attacking my G-spot over and over until I lost total control. FUCK!!

We kissed, tasting the results of my orgasms on her lips and tongue, OMG! 

When she backed up for me to get a look at her, I had to laugh.

“Let me get you a towel,” I jumped up and started to walk to my bathroom. That was when I got my first glimpse of the carnage that we had caused. 

 Not only was Teagan’s face covered, but my sheets were soaked. 

Returning with a towel, I laughed as I dabbed my fluids from her face, stopping once in a while, giving her a peck on the lips. 

But now? It was her turn.

I grabbed her wrist, flipping her onto her back. Her eyes widened, a startled laugh escaping her lips, but the second she saw the look in my eyes — lusty, revengeful — her breath caught.

“Oh,” she whispered, her teasing confidence faltering for just a second.

I crawled on top of her, straddling her hips, my fingers sliding down her stomach, teasing along her bare skin. “No breaks for you either, babe,” I whispered darkly, my voice low and rough with leftover arousal.

I kissed her hard, messy, our tongues tangling, my hand slipping lower between her thighs. She was soaked already — her smooth pussy, warm, glistening with how worked up she’d gotten fingering me.

I wasted no time — my fingers slid inside her, two at once, curling, looking for that sensitive spot that made me go crazy. OH, there it was! That soft, spongy spot that makes for amazing, intense orgasms. 

I started slowly, circling my fingers, rubbing softly. 

As her body reacted, I changed how I worked my fingers inside of her. I mimicked what she had done to me, learning as I went.

She gasped, her back arching, hips lifting off the bed.

“Fuck, Sydney…” she groaned, her voice already breaking.

I didn’t let up — I curled my fingers deliberately, steady and relentless, my palm pressing against her as I watched her unravel.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth falling open in a shaky moan as her thighs trembled.

But I wasn’t done — not even close.

I slid down her body, kissing along her stomach, her hips, before settling between her legs. My tongue flicked over, around and through her pussy. Tasting her, teasing, while my fingers kept pumping inside her, curling just right, steady and rough.

“Please, don’t stop,” she gasped, her hands grabbing the sheets, her whole body tight with tension.

I wasn’t stopping, My tongue circled her clit as my fingers attacked her G-spot with focused precision.

It didn’t take long — her head raised, her body bucked, and then…

A gush of warmth coated my hand and face. A soft, wet splatter covered my wrist and face as she let out a strangled, broken moan.

She’d gushed everywhere.

“Holy fuck…” she gasped, her whole body shaking.

But I didn’t stop. I kept fingering her, my tongue licking her clit relentlessly, working her through it and right into the next.

Her moans turned desperate, raw, her hips rocking, pushing into me — I held her there, no mercy, my fingers working hard against that sweet, sensitive love button inside her.

The second orgasm hit her even harder — her back arched, her breath caught, and another warm gush soaked me, dripping down her thighs, my hand, and face, soaking the sheets.

“Fuck! Syd!” she cried out, her voice cracking, eyes squeezing shut.

I still didn’t stop.

Her thighs trembled as I worked her with my fingers and mouth. Working her G Spot, licking her clit, teasing her mercilessly.

She squirted again — hard this time, a messy, soaking gush that splattered across my hand, face, and the bed.

Her body was shaking, helpless, and I didn’t let up.

“Break… break,” she tried to gasp, her voice high, wrecked, broken.

I pulled back just enough to grin up at her, my face glistening, my fingers still deep inside her. “Nope… not yet.”

I slid my free hand along her inner thigh, spreading her wider, watching as her pussy clenched helplessly around my fingers, still dripping, flushed, soaked.

Then I lowered my mouth again, tongue lapping at her clit, fingers attacking her, and the pressure inside her built fast — her body completely out of her control.

“Fuck— Sydney— I’m— oh god—”

She came hard again, her whole body convulsing as another messy, soaking stream gushed from her pussy, coating my hand, my face, dripping onto the bed.

I continued, not giving her a choice. Again, again, again I made her cum, squirting all over me and the bed.

By the time I finally eased my fingers out of her, her body was weak — trembling, flushed, her blue eyes glassy, her breath coming in sharp, desperate pants.

I crawled back up her body, kissing her softly, teasing, tasting her sweetness on my tongue and lips.

Her chest heaved as she tried to breathe, her hand weakly gripping my wrist.

“You’re evil,” she whispered, her voice raw, completely gone.

I just smiled against her lips. “You started it.”

Teagan lay beneath me, flushed, breathless, her body still trembling from the relentless mess I’d made of her. The sheets were soaked, her thighs glistening, a faint sheen of sweat clinging to her skin.

Her blue eyes fluttered open as I kissed her softly, slower this time, our lips moving together, tongues lazily tangling, tasting, teasing.

“Okay… I deserved that,” she breathed when we finally broke apart, her voice still hoarse, but that teasing spark was creeping back into her eyes.

I smiled against her lips, nipping at them playfully. “You did.”

Her hand slid down my side, fingers trailing along my hip. “But you’re not done, are you?”

I shook my head, kissing her again, slower, deeper. “Not even close.”

She let out a soft laugh, breath shaky, as we kissed — slow, messy, all tongue, our bodies tangled together on top of the soaked sheets.

My hand slid between her legs again, fingers teasing her pussy, still soaked, still sensitive. She whimpered softly, her hips shifting toward me, that raw, desperate need building all over again.

“Your turn,” I whispered against her lips.

She grinned, her hand sliding between my thighs, her fingers teasing along my pussy, spreading me open, finding me just as ready, just as desperate.

We kissed again, tongues wet and eager, our hands working between each other’s legs, fingers slipping inside, curling hard against that sweet, sensitive spot.

We found a rhythm fast — our hips rocking, fingers pumping, relentless.

I moaned into her mouth as her fingers hit my G-spot perfectly, the pressure building fast, sharp, unbearable. My fingers curled inside her just as hard, stroking her deep, watching her break apart beneath me.

“Oh fuck… Syd…” she gasped, her voice cracking, her hips jerking.

“Cum for me,” I whispered, fingering her harder, faster.

She did — hard — her body tensing, thighs trembling as another gush soaked my hand, her moans, music to my ears.

At the same time, her fingers worked me right back—fast, relentless, making me explode. My orgasm crashed over me, sharp and overwhelming, my whole body bucking against her hand as I came, soaking everything within the splash zone.

We didn’t stop.

Our hands moved faster, fingering, pumping, teasing — no breaks, no mercy.

Another orgasm ripped through me, my body tightening, another stream gushing from me, soaking the sheets even more.

Teagan whimpered, her hips rocking, her pussy clenching around my fingers as she squirted again, her body shaking under me.

We barely had time to breathe before we were wrecking each other again — fingers attacking G-spots, tongues tangling, breathless moans filling the room.

A third orgasm built fast, sharp, our bodies completely out of control, and then…

We both came again — hard. So hard, I got dizzy and thought I was about to faint.  

Messy, soaking everything, trembling, gasping, our hands never stopping until we were both shaking, completely spent.

By the time our hands finally stilled, we were both soaked. Our skin glistened with sweat and slick and spit, the sheets beneath us a complete disaster. The whole bed, the room smelled like sex — hot and raw and real — and I loved it.

My fingers slipped from her slowly, gently, and hers did the same, our bodies weak as we tried to breathe through the carnage we’d created in each other. Every inch of me buzzed, sensitive and pulsing, completely undone. My legs felt weak. My chest felt light. My head swam with the dizzy haze.

I collapsed onto her chest, letting gravity take me.

Teagan opened her arms without a word, and I curled into her, my head resting on her bare chest, her heartbeat still racing under my cheek. She felt hot and soft and safe. Her fingers stroked lazily through my hair, and we just lay there like that for a long time. No pressure. No performance. Just breathing.

“Are you alive?” she asked softly after a while, her voice soft, sensual.

“Barely,” I murmured. “I can’t feel my legs.”

She laughed — low, throaty, satisfied. “I don’t think I’ve ever squirted that hard in my life.”

“You were soaked,” I grinned weakly. “We both were.”

“You made me like that,” she whispered, kissing the top of my head. “Felt like I was gonna drown.”

“You deserved it.”

Her hand slid gently along my back, settling on my hip. “Yeah… I did.”

We stayed there in silence a little longer — tangled, warm, soft, the air still thick with the afterglow. My limbs felt like jelly. My skin tingled. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to ruin the feeling.

But eventually, the stickiness of everything caught up to us.

Teagan wrinkled her nose. “We’re disgusting.”

“Filthy,” I agreed, not moving.

“Shower?”

I groaned. “Only if you carry me.”

She snorted. “Not a chance. You’re walking, Bambi legs.”

I rolled onto my back dramatically, moaning as my muscles protested. “You broke me.”

She leaned over and kissed me, slow and sweet and full of mischief. “You’ll recover.”

Eventually, we stumbled to the shower. Warm water hit our skin, and we just stood there for a minute, letting it wash away each other’s juices. I leaned against the wall as she lathered soap across my body with gentle, teasing hands, like she still hadn’t quite had enough of me.

“Don’t even think about starting round three,” I warned playfully, my voice echoing off the tile.

She raised her eyebrows with a grin. “Just washing your thighs…”

I gave her a look.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, raising her hands. “Breakfast first. Then we’ll see.”

We toweled off, did our hair and makeup, dressed slowly, lazily, every movement still a little drunk with leftover pleasure. She slipped into her tank top and cute, tiny shorts but without undies. I threw on leggings and a t-shirt, no bra. I wanted the outline of my nipples to be seen, enjoyed by her, others. 

We headed out for breakfast a little after nine.

It felt surreal — sitting across from her in a tiny booth at a diner near my house, sipping OJ, her foot resting casually against mine under the table. We talked about nothing at first. The food. The playlist. The waitress’s long fake nails. We laughed.

But when her eyes met mine across the table, something shifted again.

It wasn’t nerves anymore. It wasn’t curiosity.

It was connection.

And I realized — what happened last night? This morning?

It wasn’t going to be a one-time thing. It was the start of something truly amazing.