Hot Tub Guy

Diane pedaled her bike up the winding path on the West End of Aspen, the kind of route that twisted like a lazy river through pines that whispered secrets to the wind. It was Saturday afternoon, the sun hanging low and lazy after a week of stitching up skiers and dodging ER chaos. Her muscles ached from twelve-hour shifts, but the crisp mountain air was already loosening the knots. She spotted him first—Hot Tub Guy, as she'd dubbed him in her head after spotting him at those neighborhood barbecues where the wine flowed and the laughter got loud. His real name was Alex, but the nickname stuck because every party seemed to end with him mentioning his backyard oasis.

He was biking ahead, shirtless and sweat-glistened, his quads flexing under those black cycling shorts. They'd nodded at each other over the past year, exchanged flirty smiles at the same gatherings—her in sundresses that hugged her curves, him cracking jokes that made her laugh harder than she expected. Today, she felt that post-week buzz, the one that made her want to shed the scrubs and dive into something reckless. "Hey, stranger," she called out, pedaling faster to catch up, her voice carrying that playful lilt she'd honed from too many nights feeling frisky after wine.

Alex glanced back, his grin splitting wide as he slowed. "Diane? Didn't expect to see you out here conquering the hills. What's got you smiling like that?"

She pulled alongside, her ponytail swinging. "Just shaking off the hospital grind. You look like you're up to no good on that bike."

He laughed, eyes flicking over her leggings and fitted tank top. "Heading home to unwind. You know, the usual—hot tub, maybe a drink. Care to join? It's big enough for two."

The invitation hit like a spark. Diane's mind flashed to those parties where she'd felt adventurous, dancing close to edges she rarely crossed. A hot tub sounded perfect for melting away the week's tension. "Twist my arm. Lead the way."

"Not on foot," he said, patting the rack behind his seat. "Hop on. I'll give you the royal escort."

She climbed on, her thighs pressing against his back as he pedaled the short distance down the street to his place—a sleek modern house with glass walls that caught the light like a jewel box. The backyard opened up to a private deck, the hot tub steaming invitingly amid potted aspens and a stone fire pit. Alex killed the bike and hopped off, grabbing two glasses from a outdoor bar cart. "Margarita? I make 'em strong."

"Perfect," Diane said, watching him pour the lime-green mix, the tequila scent sharp and promising. He flicked on a speaker, and Jimmy Buffett's easy strum filled the air— "Margaritaville," of course, because why not lean into the vibe?

She kicked off her shoes, feeling the deck's warmth underfoot. Time to ditch the sweats. Diane peeled them down, revealing the tiny yellow bikini she'd thrown on that morning on a whim, the fabric clinging to her full breasts and the curve of her hips. Alex's eyes lingered, appreciative but not sleazy. "Damn, you make that look good. Tub's ready—join me?"

He was already stripping off his shorts, no hesitation, his cock half-hard and swinging free as he stepped into the bubbling water. Diane's pulse quickened. Naked. Of course. She wasn't backing out now. She untied her top, letting her tits bounce free—heavy and natural, nipples tightening in the cool air—then shimmied out of the bottoms, her shaved pussy exposed to his gaze. She slid in opposite him, the heat enveloping her like a lover's arms.

The water churned around them, jets massaging her back. Alex handed her the margarita, clinking glasses. "To unexpected neighbors."

They sipped, the salt and lime cutting through the steam. Conversation flowed easy—hospital stories from her, his tales of guiding ski tours. But the flirting ramped up quick, his foot brushing her calf under the water. "You've got that glow," he said, leaning closer. "Like you've been waiting for a break."

Diane set her glass down, the alcohol warming her veins, making her bold. "Maybe I have. It's been a long week." She closed the gap, her lips meeting his in a heavy kiss—soft at first, then hungry, tongues sliding wet and insistent. His hands found her waist under the water, pulling her onto his lap. She felt his cock harden against her thigh, thick and ready.

"Fuck, Diane," he murmured against her mouth, one hand cupping her breast, thumb circling the nipple until it pebbled. She ground against him, the water sloshing as his fingers trailed down, slipping between her legs to stroke her clit. She was already wet, not just from the tub, her pussy aching for more. They kissed deeper, his tongue fucking her mouth while he fingered her slow, teasing circles that made her moan into him.

She broke the kiss, sliding down to kneel between his legs in the shallow end. His dick stood straight, veined and flushed. Diane wrapped her hand around the base, stroking as she leaned in, licking the tip—salty pre-cum mixing with the chlorine tang. "You taste good," she whispered, then took him in, her lips stretching around his girth. She sucked slow at first, tongue swirling the underside, then bobbed deeper, hollowing her cheeks. Alex groaned, hand tangling in her wet hair, guiding without forcing.

"Shit, your mouth..." He thrust lightly, fucking her face as she hummed around him, one hand fondling his balls. She loved the control, the way he swelled on her tongue. Faster now, slurping and wet, until his hips bucked. "Gonna cum—"

She pulled off just enough, stroking him hard as ropes of hot cum shot across her lips and chin, some landing on her tits. He panted, watching her swipe a finger through it and suck it clean, her eyes locked on his. "Messy," she teased, licking him soft.

But they weren't done. Alex pulled her up, kissing the cum from her mouth, tasting himself. "My turn." He lifted her onto the tub's edge, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy glistened, pink and swollen. He dove in, tongue flat against her slit, lapping from her entrance to her clit. Diane arched, hands gripping the rim, as he sucked her folds, two fingers plunging inside to curl against her G-spot. "Oh god, Alex—right there." He ate her like he was starved, the stubble on his jaw scraping her thighs, until she shattered, thighs clamping his head, her juices coating his chin.

Panting, she slid back in, pulling him close. "Fuck me. Now." He didn't need telling twice. Diane straddled him, guiding his cock to her entrance. He was rock hard again, sliding in deep with one thrust. The water made it slick, her pussy gripping him tight as she rode, tits bouncing with each grind. "So fucking good," she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

They moved to the tub's steps for leverage. Alex bent her over the edge, hands on her hips, slamming into her from behind. The slap of wet skin echoed, his balls smacking her clit. "Your pussy's perfect—tight and wet." She pushed back, meeting every thrust, the jets bubbling against her knees. Passion overrode sense; she knew she should grab a condom from her bag, but the heat, the rhythm—it was too much. "Don't cum inside me," she warned, voice breathy.

He grunted, pounding harder, but the build was inevitable. "Can't—fuck, Diane—" He buried deep, erupting, hot spurts filling her. Cum leaked out around his cock, dripping into the water in pearly strings as he kept thrusting through it. She clenched around him, her own orgasm ripping through, milking every drop.

They collapsed back, laughing breathlessly. But the fire wasn't out. After catching their breath, Alex carried her to a lounge chair by the tub, laying her down. He spread her legs, watching his cum ooze from her pussy. "Look at that." He rubbed his thumb through it, then slid two fingers in, fucking her slow with his own mess. Diane moaned, reaching for his cock, stroking it back to life.

This time, he flipped her onto her stomach, ass up. "Want to try something?" His voice was rough, fingers teasing her tight hole, slick with tub water and leftover cum. She nodded, adventurous spark from those party nights flickering. "Lube it up," she said, and he did, using spit and the remnants from her pussy to ease a finger in. She gasped at the stretch, then relaxed as he worked her open.

His cock pressed against her ass, slow and careful. "Tell me if it's too much." Inch by inch, he pushed in, her ring clenching around him. "Holy shit, so tight." Once seated, he rocked gently, building to a steady fuck. Diane reached under, rubbing her clit, the fullness overwhelming in the best way. "Harder—fuck my ass." He obliged, gripping her cheeks, pounding until she came again, ass spasming around him. He pulled out, stroking fast, and gave her a facial—thick jets across her face, dripping down her cheeks and into her open mouth. She licked her lips, tasting the salt.

They weren't finished. Back in the tub, she blew him again, deep-throating until he came down her throat, her swallowing every bit. Then he bent her over the side once more, fucking her pussy raw, pulling out to cum on her ass, the white streaks running down her crack into the water. Exhausted, they floated together, bodies tangled, the Jimmy Buffett playlist looping softly.

In the days that followed, Diane and Alex crossed paths at the market, the coffee shop—quick kisses, lingering looks. He'd text her about the hot tub, "Water's warm—come soak?" She smiled each time, remembering the drip of cum into the bubbles, the way he'd made her feel alive. One evening, after a ski day in the Rockies where the powder had her buzzing like those old party highs, she showed up at his door. "Missed that tub," she said, stripping as she walked.

He pulled her inside, but they never made it to the backyard. Instead, they fucked on the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around him, no barriers, just raw need. As they lay spent later, staring at the stars through his skylight, Diane realized this was her kind of unwind—passionate, unscripted, with a guy who knew how to turn relaxation into ecstasy. And damn if she wasn't already planning the next dip.