The sun blazed overhead, turning the pool into a shimmering mirror. I stepped onto the warm concrete, my small bikini doing little to hide the curves I’d spent years perfecting. You were already in the water, shirtless, your broad shoulders glistening as you turned to smile at me. The sight of your defined torso under the sun made my pulse quicken.
“Damn,” you said, your eyes dragging over me like a physical touch. “You look fucking edible.”
I laughed, dipping my toes in before sliding into the pool. The water was cool against my skin, but your gaze was hotter. I floated closer, my breasts rising with each breath, the fabric of my bikini clinging just enough to tease.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I murmured, biting my lip as I admired the way your arms flexed when you reached for the edge of the pool.
We chatted about nothing—work, the weather, how our partners were out of town—but the air between us was thick with something else. Something electric. When I finally climbed out, my skin prickled with awareness. Your eyes locked onto my ass as I bent over to grab a towel, and I swore I heard you groan under your breath.
I dried off slowly, the fabric of my bikini doing little to hide my hardening nipples. My thighs clenched as I glanced at the bulge in your swim trunks. *Fuck.* The way it tented the fabric made my mouth water.
We moved to the lounge chairs, passing a joint between us. The smoke curled around us, the high making everything feel hazier, more intense. Our conversation shifted, turning bolder.
“You ever think about how boring sex with our partners has become?” you asked, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.
I took a drag before answering. “All the time. Like, we’re both just going through the motions.”
Your hand landed on my thigh, fingers brushing dangerously close to where I ached for you. “What’s your fantasy?”
I swallowed hard. “I want someone to take control. Fuck me so hard I forget my own name.”
You smirked, leaning in. “Good. Because I’ve been fantasizing about bending you over that pool chair and fucking you until you scream.”
Before I could respond, you grabbed my head and crushed your mouth to mine. Your tongue forced its way past my lips, tasting like smoke and sin. I moaned into the kiss, my hands tangling in your hair as your fingers dug into my hips. My nipples were painfully hard, my pussy throbbing, wetness soaking into the fabric of my bikini.
*Fuck, I need this.*
But I forced myself to pull away. “I should go.”
You looked disappointed but didn’t push. “Call me later?”
I nodded, rushing home in a daze. The second I was alone, I stripped, throwing myself onto the bed. My fingers worked furiously between my legs, but it wasn’t enough. My thoughts kept drifting to you—to the way your hands would feel on me, the way your cock would stretch me open.
Frustrated, I yanked on a pair of shorts and a shirt, my clit still throbbing. I marched to your door, knocking before I could second-guess myself.
You answered in a loose pair of sweatpants, your chest bare. The moment your hand landed on my back to guide me inside, I shivered. Your touch sent jolts straight to my core.
“You look stressed,” you murmured, rubbing my shoulders. “Maybe a massage would help.”
I moaned as your hands kneaded my back, your fingers skimming lower, closer to where I needed you. “God, yes.”
We settled on the couch, and you poured us drinks. But the alcohol did nothing to cool the fire between us. You told me to lie face down, and when your hands slid under my shirt, your palms covering my entire back, I nearly came right then.
“Fuck,” I breathed as your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of my shorts, teasing the curve of my ass.
“Relax,” you murmured, your breath hot against my ear. “Let me take care of you.”
Your hands explored every inch of me—my neck, my shoulders, the dip of my waist, the swell of my hips. I was a trembling mess by the time you slid my shorts down, exposing my dripping pussy.
“Jesus, you’re soaked,” you growled, your fingers sliding between my folds. “I need to taste you.”
Before I could respond, you were on your knees, your tongue dragging up my slit in one slow, torturous lick. I cried out, my fingers clawing at the couch as your mouth worked me over. Your tongue circled my clit before dipping lower, fucking me with shallow strokes.
“Fuck, right there—” I gasped, my hips bucking against your face.
You growled, your hands gripping my ass as you devoured me. My orgasm crashed over me like a wave, my thighs shaking as I came with a broken cry.
But you weren’t done.
You flipped me onto my back, your sweatpants discarded, your cock springing free. It was thick, veiny, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. I licked my lips, eager to taste you.
“Sit on my face,” you commanded, pulling me up.
I straddled your chest, your tongue diving back into my pussy as I took your cock into my mouth. The dual sensation was overwhelming—your tongue fucking me while I sucked you, my moans vibrating around your shaft.
“That’s it, take me deep,” you groaned, your fingers tangling in my hair.
I hollowed my cheeks, bobbing my head as you thrust up into my throat. Your free hand slid between my legs, your fingers working my clit in time with my sucking.
“I’m gonna come,” you grunted, pulling me off just in time to spill ropes of cum across my tits.
I whimpered, still needy, still desperate. “Fuck me. Please.”
You didn’t