Sick of the cold, wet, and endless darkness of England in winter and the low-key seasonal affective disorder that came with it, Q and I booked a last-minute, mid-January holiday. We were open to going anywhere as long as it was asap, there was sunshine, and it was affordable. Mallorca, leaving tomorrow? Check. Small hotel with a pool, outside the main tourist spots? Check.
It was a late-night flight, and after the taxi dropped us at the hotel at 3am, we had quick showers and collapsed into bed, sleeping the sleep of the dead until mid-morning. Having gratefully scavenged some food from the kitchen staff, we changed into our swimming clothes, applied sun cream, grabbed our stuff, and headed for the poolside. It wasn’t busy, and we found a pair loungers in the corner, with their own parasol.
I lay back and buried myself in my holiday read for a bit, some pulpy bestseller I’d picked up on a whim at the airport. It was a spy caper populated by men who wore bomber jackets and slacks all the time, drank Bushmills, and were accompanied by women who made them ham sandwiches and coffee when they worked through the night to save the world. Slightly ridiculous and generic but easy reading, and I was grateful not have to delve into weighty reports or other people’s developmental research for a while, just reading for fun and not having to think.
Having my skin out in the open, in bright, hot sunshine, was wonderful, and I could feel the rays regenerating me, warming me through to my bones after what had seemed like an interminable, dank winter. It was almost like emerging from a level of subconscious hibernation. I looked up to see Q lying on her stomach on the sun-bed, half in the shade, browsing random stuff on her tablet. She was wearing a red bikini with her long, dark hair curled over her shoulder, hanging down the front. Drinking in the view of her, I felt tingles emanating from deep inside me.
I took some time to revel in expanses of her skin and valleys of her shape as she soaked up that much-needed and recuperative vitamin D. She was propped up on her elbows and my eyes travelled appreciatively over the slight crease in her flesh around her lower back, catching a glimpse of a side boob just past her armpit. Her legs were slightly open and bent at the knee so her feet were up in the air and crossed, almost playfully. Her bikini bottoms had ridden up a little (or had she pulled them up?) so her beautiful bum was on display. I was feeling further twinges.
I reached for my phone and sent her a text message: ‘You have a fantastic body. Your arse is divine. x’
I saw the notification pop up on her screen and she tapped on it, opening her messages. She began typing her reply, and I could see the three dancing dots on my phone, which were soon replaced with: ‘Perve’
‘Open your legs a bit, let me see, sexy,’ I texted back.
‘Fuck off! We’re in public,’ Q responded.
‘Nobody else can see from here. Go on. I dare you. Open up…just a little’
Dares were always a red rag to a bull as far as Q was concerned – she had a definite risk-taking streak. She looked at me over her shoulder; with her shades on I couldn’t see her eyes, but she had a cheeky smile on her face. Putting the tablet on the floor in front of her where she could still access it, she lay flat on her stomach straightened her legs so they were resting on her towel and opened her legs wider, giving me a full view of her butt cheeks and up between her legs. Then, pressing her hips down, she scooched a touch to the right. This had the effect of pulling the fabric slightly to the side of her pussy, almost exposing it to me.
‘Ohmygod. Yum. Give me more,’ I typed.
Very casually, Q turned slightly and brought the knee nearest me up six inches. To anyone else it would have looked as if she was just chilling, relaxed, but I could now see clearly between her legs, and half of her smooth labia were in full view, although only to me.
‘How d’ya like them apples?’ came her response.
‘I like them a lot. I want to kiss you. On the lips.’
‘Just a little kiss?’ she replied. Tease.
‘No – definitely tongues.’
Q had a thing for being eaten out, and I had a thing for eating her out, too. I was glad I was sitting up because I was now sporting an eager erection. Our exchange was evidently having an effect on her, too: I could see her pressing her hips down into the soft cushion on the lounger, just gyrating slightly, putting some pressure on her pudenda.
‘Deal. Upstairs, whenever you’re ready. She’ll be waiting for your tongue,’ Q texted, before drawing herself back onto her haunches, giving me a full and lascivious view of her behind. She stood up, wrapped her sarong around her waist and whispered, ‘Don’t hang around, lover,’ as she sashayed past me into the hotel.
I realised I’d been holding my breath and exhaled after she had left. I had a problem. I was desperate to follow Q as quickly as I could but I wasn’t able to stand up without exposing my now straining boner. I quickly grasped my book and tried to distract myself a little. After a page or so, I was able to adjust myself before picking up my headphones and water to mask myself as I scampered after her.
When I let myself into the room, I could see Q on the bed, having adopted exactly the same position as she’d been in outside – on her stomach, legs open, and one knee drawn up. The only difference was that while she was still wearing the bikini bottoms, the top was now on on the floor.
‘What took you so long, lover? We’ve been waiting for you,’ she purred.
‘I had to wait for my yard arm to fall a bit, sorry.’
I wanted to fall on her ravenously but I also didn’t want to rush. Dropping my shorts and freeing my growing semi, I sat next to her on the bed and ran my fingers down Q’s spine, eliciting a low hum from her. I continued my exploration up her sides – where she’s really sensitive, over her bum, down the backs of her legs, and back up her thighs. Leaning forwards, I gently bit each butt cheek and then pulled downwards at the waistband. She obliged by lifting her hips slightly, allowing me to peel them off her where they joined their top buddy on the floor.
Standing at the foot of the bed, I put my hands on her hips and coaxed her backwards. Q understood, pushing herself back on all fours, offering her deliciousness to me. This also meant that when I knelt down I was at the perfect height to kiss her cunt, which I did, gently at first. I pressed my lips as lightly as I could against her labia, following the crease from bottom to top, and back again, increasing the pressure little by little with each pass. Q moaned and opened her legs a bit more, allowing me to catch a scent of her aroma. She was getting as turned on as I was, and the smell of her arousal was driving me higher and higher, too.
I continued, gently pressing my tongue between her lips, tracing the crevice all the way to her anus, just inside it, and back down again, but still shallowly. I didn’t quite touch her clit. I could feel her juices around her vaginal opening and I extended my tongue, reaching inside her to find more, explore her there, and to spread it up her slit and over her anus. Q had gone very quiet, just breathing deeply, which she often did when she was really in the sexual moment, focusing on the sensations in her body.
After licking around and within her holes, I took my lover’s labia between my lips and sucked on them on one side and then the other, pulling them gently, which elicited a louder exhale. I was listening carefully and I followed her lead, teasing and sucking, licking and loving, with my mouth. I only occasionally brushed over her clit, I didn’t want to bring her off too soon, but before long I felt her hand reach up underneath her and start rubbing it as she moaned and pushed back into my face.
This left me free to focus on her entrances. Her asshole was already wet and it only took a little pressure for me to slide an index finger in to the second knuckle, causing her to groan loudly. She start rubbing even faster, and I could hear the slickness of her fingertips around her clit, lubricated by a mix of my spit and her leaking pussy.
“Fuckyesfuckyesfuckey fffuuucckk,’ moaned Q, at which point I buried my face deep into her velvet folds, sliding my tongue as deep as I could. I felt her vagina walls contract and hold there for a few seconds before she was through, shockwaves pulsing through her body. She isn’t a squirter but I felt my mouth almost flooded as I drank her orgasm. I held my position as it passed before disengaging and planting gentle kisses all over her labia.
After a minute’s recovery, Q spoke. “Get inside me. I want you. Now.”
I didn’t need asking twice, I was rock hard and desperate, my cock straining against the confines of its skin. Standing up, I placed my swollen cock head at her entrance and gently pushed it inside her wetness.
“More. All of you. I need a fucking.”
I was never going to say no in that state. I slid all the way in as her walls gripped me, stretching my foreskin back as I went balls deep. I was almost seeing stars already, and I began fucking her slowly to start with, long slow strokes for a while alternating with short ones to tease her entrance for periods. Q’s hand reached underneath again; she was touching herself and my balls every time I bottomed out.
“I’m close,” I panted after a while of steadily and lovingly impaling her. “You want me to hold out longer?”
“I’m nearly there too,” Q rasped. “Hang on, I want you to cream me when I’m coming. Just…a….fuck…hang on…shitshitshitshit….YES!”
Finally releasing the almost unbearable pressure in my lower stomach, I let my orgasm rise to the surface and overtake me, croaking as I inhaled before feeling those waves of ecstasy wash through me, squeezing the cum from my balls and into her pussy. Q was responding in kind, milking and coating me with her own climax.
As it subsided and my cock softened, I pulled out with a schloop and flopped onto the bed. Q stretched out beside me, languorous and content in the way that only women can be after sex, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms over her head. “It’s good to get away, she said. And I needed that, you sexy fucker.”
