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The air was warm and still. Lucy’s head was buzzing, and her skin felt sticky. The constant chirping of crickets grew louder as the laughter of her friends grew quieter. Slipping away from the crowd gathered around the beer pong table on the patio, Lucy skipped lightly down the stone steps from the veranda. The gardens were unlit except for the weak light of the moon’s cloud-thinned glow but after a week at her friend’s holiday home, Lucy could navigate the short distance by memory now. She smiled to herself as the grass, dampened by the nightly sprinkler routine, caressed her ankles, then stepped up onto the final verge, bringing herself to the poolside. Making sure to avoid slipping on the wet flagstones, she sat down at the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the clear, cooling water. For a few moments, she lay still and enjoyed the sound of the waves lapping at the stones. Even though she was wearing only her bikini and an unbuttoned shirt, she had still been far too hot up at the house. It hadn’t helped that her one-time-boyfriend Alex had also been invited on the group holiday (along with seven or eight other people). Back in school, they had always had an off-and-on again relationship, but they had managed to remain friends throughout most of it – friends with a little bit on the side, that was. Once they had got to uni, however, they had stopped talking almost entirely. Now, almost a year had passed, and they were living together for two weeks, surrounded by beaches, palm trees, their drunk friends and horny couples. It had already been three days, and they’d barely said a word to each other.
And that would have been fine, Lucy thought to herself, if he wasn’t so damn distracting. Alex had always been athletic when they were together but when he first pulled his shirt off to go for a swim, Lucy couldn’t believe how much he had changed – his shoulders were broader than they had ever been. His arms were larger and his chest and abs more defined. Even Lisa, an Italian girl that she had never met before, had whistled when she saw him. Lucy on the other hand had been glad when he dived into the pool. Not only because Ankara travesti she got a nice view of his ass and legs, but also because she had time to pick her jaw up off the floor. Uni sports training had obviously had its effect on him.
Then, tonight, when the drinking had started on the back patio, and the boys had all opted to go for shorts and shirtless, she couldn’t take it anymore and decided to drift away from everyone and clear her head. Of course, she mused, it didn’t help that there was very little privacy to be had at the villa. It was a large place for a family of four, but for twelve twenty-somethings, it was too small for them to have their own rooms. The three couples got their own bedroom between themselves, and the remaining four single girls, and the three guys were all sharing. two rooms between them, along gender lines.
That meant that if Lucy wanted to… relax… she’d have to do it with three other girls in the room, two of whom she had never even met before this weekend. She was horny, but she wasn’t that horny yet. Just the thought of it was making her feel red in the face. Even in the shower, she hadn’t had time to get anywhere beyond a few brief twinges before someone would start hammering on the door asking her when she was going to finish – almost causing her to scream out “Never if you keep bloody interrupting!” In fact, Lucy realised, all that she had managed to do for the past few days was edge herself, nothing even close to the knee-weakening, toe-clenching orgasm that she was starting to become desperate for. Lucy began to count the days since her last orgasm, and her fingers absentmindedly traced slow circles on her thighs. She could remember it clearly, moaning facedown into her pillow as her hips thrust and her legs clamped down involuntarily around the purple vibrator stuffed between them. Back in the present, her index finger drifted across her bikini bottoms and teased the top elastic. Then, her mother had called her down for dinner – a roast, actually. So… it must have been a Sunday which meant that it had been a week. No, a week and a half since her last orgasm.
Oh Antalya travesti God… A week and a half…
She groaned in frustration beneath her breath. She had never realised that she could miss a lump of purple plastic so damn much. What she wouldn’t give to have it with her now, the soothing buzz undulating as it rolled over, and swept away the week’s tension. Her hand strayed across the front of her bikini bottoms. She could feel the heat of her arousal, even through the thickness of the material. Even that — just the brief grazing of her fingertips — felt so, so good. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to resist diving straight for the pearl hidden in the depths of her ocean of desire. Her torturous week of celibacy and self-denial had left her sensitive. Needy. There was a tightly wound cord in her stomach that was desperate to be massaged into a release. And she was going to make sure that she got what she wanted but with a week left to go, and no certainty of when she would get some more alone time – she couldn’t just let this be a quick ‘cum and go’ affair. This had to be good. That incredible, orgasmic high had to last her as long as she could make it.
She sighed and forced herself to slow down. Her fingers – familiar yet foreign – slid beneath her bikini bottoms, careful to avoid the sensitive nub of her clit. Instead, she widened her fingers into a v shape and allowed her middle finder to drift up the contours of her right fold and her index the left, stopping just short of the hallowed ground that she so deeply wanted. She was already damp yet with every second of stimulation – every heartbeat’s worth of blood and endorphins – that flooded to her sex, her wetness deepened and spread. That’s what she wanted. An orgasm so powerful that it would clench all her muscles tight before releasing them. To cum so hard that she would struggle to walk back to the house. To make herself so sensitive that every breath of cool wind against her would feel like a tongue’s gentle caress.
Her fingers began to move in circles. Edging higher and higher. Her fingers approached their destination. İstanbul travesti A stifled moan escaped her lips and arched her back. Her desire was pouring out of her now. Each twist and turn of her digits brought with it the scent and sound of her excitement, only furthering her arousal. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had been this wet. But then, she couldn’t remember the last time that she had been this needy – the last time that her sex had throbbed and begged like this.
Finally, she let the pad of her index drift across the uncovered mound of her clit. a fizz of electricity cascaded across her nerves. Then another. Then another. Her muscles contracted. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes screwed tightly shut. Biting her lip to keep herself quiet, she choked out a moan and shuddered.
A cough shredded through her rapture.
She recognised the voice, and her mind went blank. Oh God. Her muscles locked into place: her eyes screwed tightly shut and her hand froze in position. Her body still thrummed with anticipation. Oh God! Wincing, Lucy managed to open her eyes. The clouds had moved out from in front of the moon, and its pure, white light was shining over Alex, perfectly illuminating the taut lines and bulges of his naked torso. She felt another pulse of anticipation against her fingertips.
“Hi,” he said, smirking down at her. “Everyone else has gone in for the night. I didn’t see you come in, so I came to look for you,” he said, “unless you’re busy that is…”
Lucy swallowed. She shifted her hand off her stomach and sat up, trying to avoid Alex’s dark, intense gaze. “I’m not busy. I’ll come in.” she muttered as the heat rose in her cheeks.
“Hand up, Luce?” Alex asked, still smirking at her.
Feigning reluctance, she reached out and grabbed his hand. Then gasped as it made contact and she realised which hand she had given him. She jerked her hand away but it was too late. Her reaction had given away too much, and so had the moisture that she had just unthinkingly spread from her palm to his. She stammered to apologise, but he wasn’t listening. He had lifted his hand up and the traces of her arousal glistened beneath the moonlight and his gaze. He brought his hand to his face and his eyes connected with hers. His tongue reached out and collected her nectar from his fingers.
‘Just as sweet as I remember.’ He whispered.
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