by Strong, Mimi
We stumbled out of the restaurant and made our way down to the villa.
For the second time in as many days, we were kissing and groping each other as we fumbled clumsily for the door. The key card didn't want to work, so instead of going back into the main resort building and explaining everything, he led me around the side of the villa and straight to the private pool.
He stripped off all his clothes and underwear and jumped in before I even had my strappy sandals off. The ankle closure had the tiniest little buckle, and my tipsy fingers couldn't make any sense of it.
He whistled, low and sexy, and said, “Leave the shoes on. Leave everything on. Come to me, Lexie. Come and get in this pool with me.”
So I jumped in. Still wearing my wrap dress and my underwear and my shoes.
He grabbed me and we kissed, laughing.
Some soft landscape lighting was on, so we were not in complete darkness, but the light was dim enough to not take focus away from the moon, high and full overhead. The sound of music was coming faintly from the main building, from the people still dancing and drinking and laughing. Just as loud, though, was the crashing of the ocean beside us.
And my heart.
Pounding.
We kissed and kissed, standing in chest-deep water in the private pool. The pressure of the water made my breathing feel shallow, emphasized my excitement.
He took in a deep breath and dove under to remove my underwear, tugging them all the way down and then off, over my sandal-clad feet.
When he came up, he pressed up against me, his firm erection between my legs, the head of his cock pressing against my opening.
I remembered some fumbled attempts at hot tub sex from my youth and said, “Oh, Luthor, we can't do it in the water. Everything seizes up.”
He nudged the head in. “Not if you don't move it very much.”
I wrapped my arms around him and leaned my upper body back, parting my legs. “You're the gardener. Do as you wish.”
He pushed my legs with his knees, walking me back into a corner of the pool. He put one hand on the tile pool edge behind my head and used the other hand to guide himself in.
He slipped in easily, as I was more than wet and slippery inside for him. My pussy grabbed on tight to his thick member, not allowing water past the opening. He moved only the tiniest of degrees, mostly pushing his pubic bone against mine, putting pressure on my clit.
It felt every bit as good as anything we'd done before, possibly better, because I hadn't thought it was possible.
As he thrust and ground against me, he said, “If I'm the gardener, who are you?”
“I'm just me,” I said. “I'm just your girl.”
He closed his eyes. “Just my girl.”
The mood shifted, and I felt a sea of emotion wash across me, there in the pool. I could barely breathe.
The pulses of his hips sent rays of pleasure through my body, radiating from my clit and from the fullness inside me. Still, he continued to move easily within me, gliding a little further with each push.
I bit his chin and he kissed me hard and shoved me back against the tile. My hands slipped down from his neck and grabbed onto his buttocks, my finger tips digging in. I was nearly weightless, and his thrusting lifted my feet from the pool's floor.
The water around us splashed from movement, spilling up over the edge.
My pleasure grew, and I stopped trying to stay quiet and moaned with the sensation he was giving me. One of my legs wrapped up and around his waist, inviting him to push deeper into me.
The sensation changed, with his cock becoming harder, stiffer, almost stuck, barely able to move in and out, and I came, gasping. I squeezed his muscular buttocks and he buried his face into the side of my neck and moaned that he was coming too. As he did, the heat where we were joined rose up and melted away the rest of the world. The water around us blended seamlessly with the ocean, and everything was white-hot, boiling.
Apparently, the reason we weren't able to get the key card to work was because we were at the wrong villa.
After the staff member let us into our actual villa, Luthor looked at me, smirking, and said, “I thought that pool was a little small.”
I opened our sliding panel doors and pointed to the pool in front of our villa. “Yes, ours is quite a lot bigger.”
“Shall we christen that one as well?” He dropped his hands down to my towel-clad bum, the towel covering my soaked dress. He squeezed my bottom as he kissed my neck under my wet hair.
“Forgive me for being kinky, but why don't we try out that big, square piece of furniture over there. There are pillows and everything.” I nodded at the bed.
“My girl is a kinky lady,” he said, grinning.
He got me out of my wet clothes and onto the bed. He rubbed my clit and fingered me. “Slippery again. Like magic.”
I started to say something, but he climbed over me and started licking my breasts while fingering me, and I lost the ability to do anything but breathe.
We rubbed each other for some time, and I put his cock in my mouth to harden him, but not to put him over the edge yet. When we were both ready, he climbed on top of me and gently inserted himself. One of the side table lights was on, and his face was well-illuminated in soft, gold light.
I kept looking to one side or the other, closing my eyes briefly, but every time I opened my eyes, he was right there, in my face, staring into me. The emotions came back, and my chest was tight, as thought I was scuba diving again, under water, under pressure.
And still, he kept gazing into me, his look so adoring. So loving. He looked like he wanted to say something, or was waiting for me to say something.
I couldn't take it, so I spoke up and stopped him. “I want you to spank me,” I said.
Spanking was just the first thing that popped into my head, and I wanted to change the mood, change the channel, get him to stop looking at me like that.
He seemed surprised by my request, but happy to oblige.
I rolled over and got up on my knees, leaning forward and propping my chest up with two of the pillows. “Spank me, gardener.”
The first slap was quite light, barely making a sound.
I moaned and squirmed, playing the part of strumpet. It was, after all, the part he wanted me to play. It was why he'd brought me out there, halfway across the world. I was his play-thing. The whole world was his resort, and if I was lucky, he'd show me the same generosity he'd shown Sue, the woman from the hotel.
He slapped me again, harder, and I cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain.
This time, I wasn't faking it or acting. That really stung!
He slapped me a couple more times, and then I felt his cock in my opening. A few more slaps, and he was thrusting into me, very aroused.
He was wild, then, fucking me so hard, and intermittently slapping my buttocks while I whimpered and begged him to do something, either stop or don't stop.
His cock got even more dense and he plowed into me, our bodies slapping, and then he came, groaning with pleasure. Gripping my hips with both hands, he wound down and then pulled out. I rolled onto my side, squeezed my thighs together, and had an orgasm, just like that, right after him. This one was more mechanical, and I didn't see any pretty lights or hear music, but I felt calm and sated.
He bit my shoulder and said, “What do you want me to do now? Want me to go down on you? Tell me what you want.”
“I already came,” I said, a little giddy. “That was pretty intense, and it caught me by surprise.”
“Ah, I hadn't noticed. I'm sorry. I'll do better next time.” He lay behind me and draped one arm across my chest.
He didn't fall asleep right away, not from what I could tell from his breathing. I reached over and clicked off the lamp, and we lay in the dark, not speaking, for about half an hour until his breathing changed and I knew he was out.
I crept out of bed and went to the washroom.
I nearly screamed when I saw myself. My hair
was all over the place, the parts that weren't matted sticking up like a punk-rock hairdo. My makeup wasn't exactly waterproof. It had not come off in the pool, which would have been fine, but had partially melted, the mascara forming dark rivers under my eyes.
“Pretty,” I said to myself in the mirror. I quickly got myself scrubbed down.
According to local time, I should have been sleeping, but my body thought it knew better.
I got my laptop from my suitcase and took it into the kitchenette, where the light and tapping wouldn't disturb Luthor.
It was my first time checking in since arriving in Indonesia, and I was surprised by how few emails had piled up in my inbox. Then again, the main sender of emails to me was Suzanne, and she was there with me.
I skimmed through the ones from my mother. She wanted details about my spur-of-the-moment getaway, and to lecture me that four days wasn't long enough to get acclimatized to a new time zone, let alone to relax and “enjoy” myself. Ah, if only she knew.
The name on the last email confused me, and at first I thought it was spam, but then I remembered Jacob's last name. Funny, he was just Jacob to me, no last name needed.
I was already wide awake, feeling unable to sleep, and Jacob's email only made my problem worse.
It read:
Dear Lexie,
I got worried when I didn't hear from you, so I swung by your place and your neighbor Mrs. O'Hara told me you're on a business trip. Since when do professional organizers go on business trips to Indonesia?
Is the old woman going senile, or are you actually that far away from me?
I want you here.
I didn't get a chance to tell you, but I was surprised you bought all that fancy underwear for me. Then I was thinking about it, and figured out you were trying to send me a message.
Oh, Lexie, I've been such an idiot. Of course I want more from you than what we have. Where are you? We need to talk.
Yours, Jacob
4: Stingray
I barely slept that night, but Luthor woke up well-rested and ready for stand-fucking in the shower.
Who was I to refuse?
I gripped the metal bars that seemed to be in the shower for safety, but were located in the perfect spots to hang onto for shower sex. Hmm.
Before we got started, he soaped me up, running his hands all over my body.
I said, “Are you still the gardener today, or do you want me to call you Mr. Thorne?”
“No games,” he said, smiling, and he kissed me as he reached down and washed between my legs. It felt funny, to have him touching me on my ass and between my folds in that manner, but soon the soap rinsed away and he was touching me for pleasure only.
I grabbed a loofah and sponged all over his sexy chest as he rubbed me, his fingers getting greedy and sliding into my opening. Holding his cock in one hand, I used the loofah to brush his balls and inner thighs, which made him squirm. He took the sponge-y loofah from me and returned the favor, brushing it over my sensitive nipples, down my mid-line, and between my legs. The material was rough, compared to his fingers, but the novelty of the sensation set me on fire.
I sighed and moved one leg out, opening myself wider to him.
He pressed in against me, fingered my opening, then squeezed in the head of his erection. He looked me right in the eyes as he pushed the shaft in. With our height difference, I shifted up a little on my toes, but realized I didn't have to. I leaned my shoulders against the milky-blue tile shower wall and tilted my hips toward him, and we fit perfectly. His cock was up high on me, almost horizontal, and when he thrust out and in, he rubbed all along the length of my clit.
His face was so serious, his eyes ravenous. His black hair dripped with warm water, streaming from the overhead shower nozzle and falling gently over us.
I whispered, “That feels so good.”
“Like when we were in the pool,” he said.
“Exactly.”
We didn't talk again, just kissed. As he rocked against me, fanning the flames, my breathing came in ragged gasps. My mouth was open, warm water running in and out, and his mouth was there too, playing with my tongue, sucking on my lips.
I rolled my hips, finding my own rhythm to match his, and my hands moved down again, from around his neck and on down to his buttocks, where I held on tight, urging him harder into me.
This time, when I reached my climax, there was no missing it. Power surged through me like pure light, and I gasped and cried out, almost sobbing.
He pulled out of me and jerked himself with one fist as he pressed into me, kissing me. His hand was moving on his cock, pressed hard between us, and his whole body tensed. He pressed his face into my neck and groaned, then relaxed.
I released my fingers from his buttocks, noting in our reflection across the bathroom that I'd left finger-shaped red marks there.
He chuckled sheepishly and looked at me through his thick, dark eyebrows. “Sorry I had to pull out there, but the angle … it was really good, but I couldn't … you know.”
I smiled at him, thinking about how funny it was guys can say the filthiest things to you before or during sex, but right after, they're all modest, like shy teens.
“That's cool,” I said. “You shot pretty hard. I think you got me under my chin.”
His eyes grew wide. “No!”
I tilted up my chin to show him where I'd felt the hot splash.
He retrieved the loofah and some soap and gave me a quick wash. “I didn't see anything,” he said, grinning, “but I'll wash you down, just in case.”
I felt calm and in control, thanks to my orgasm. I always have a spell of about ten minutes, right after sex, where I can say almost anything and not lose my nerve.
“I won't take any money for this,” I said.
He frowned and fiddled with the taps of the shower.
“This trip here has been magical,” I said. “I really appreciate your generosity, but I won't take any cash. Whatever you have arranged with Suzanne, you can give her the commission, but if you give her the whole amount, whatever you agreed to, I'll just donate it to a charity.”
“But it's for you.”
“Luthor, my parents raised me to take care of myself. I own a condo, and the mortgage is half paid-off already, because I work hard and I'm smart with my money. Granted, my savings plan hasn't left a lot of fun money around, and some months my bank account gets close to zero, but I go on the odd vacation, when I can get a nice one on sale. I am a business woman, but there's one thing I don't sell.”
He gave me a hard look, and I nearly lost my nerve.
“I don't sell my body,” I finished. “I give it freely. And I gave it to you, here, because I like you, and you're adorable, and you fuck like a bunny.” I smiled at the last comment to lighten the mood.
He grabbed a shampoo bottle and scowled at the label. “Wouldn't you like to have your mortgage paid off?”
“I'll get there on my own. I'm only twenty-seven. I've got lots of time, and once the business picks up even more, Suzanne and I will hire some other organizers, and we'll just keep expanding.” I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and drew him in close, so I could kiss his handsome jaw and cheek. “Maybe you can give me some business tips, be like a mentor.”
He put the shampoo bottle down and kissed me, once. “Sure.”
As we had breakfast with Suzanne and Simon, and the three of them joked about Simon's dancing moves from the night before, I sipped my fresh tropical fruit juice and thought about returning home the next day.
Jacob's email was very much on my mind, and I was weighing the possibilities. Luthor Thorne, who was currently looking dashing in a white linen shirt, was exotic, like tropical fruit juice, or like all the spicy dishes we'd enjoyed at the resort. Jacob, however, was like Coca Cola and spaghetti, and home. I knew where I stood with Jacob, and was looking forward to seeing him again, putting on the special underwear that I hadn't packed for my trip because the idea of wearing them for another man did
n't seem right.
Simon asked me a question, but I'd been lost in my thoughts. “What?”
“Finding Nemo!” he said, and the three of them laughed.
“Yes, yes, let's find Nemo again today,” I said.
One more day. One more day of exotic food, Luthor Thorne, and adventure under the sea.
The day was perfect and blue, again, and I wondered what Indonesia might be like during the rainy season. We were on the boat, heading out to our dive, and Simon asked our guide if he might ask a personal question.
The guide, a friendly gray-haired Indonesian man in this sixties, said, “Everybody goes pee in the scuba suits. But it's sterile, so don't worry.”
“Not that,” Simon said. “I was wondering if … people ever have, um, intercourse while scuba diving.”
The guide grinned from ear to ear. “Trust me, it is not worth the effort. Plus we have a rule. Do not have sex in front of the fish, because it scares the fish.”
Everyone—there were a dozen of us on the boat, guests and staff—laughed.
Suzanne said, “For the record, everyone, my husband was asking out of intellectual curiosity. There is no way I'd have sex scuba diving. It is not on my sensual tourism list.”
Beside me, Luthor sat up straight and asked, “Sensual tourism list?”
Suzanne blushed and pointed at me. “Lexie started it.”
I rolled my eyes and tried not to show my embarrassment. “It's not an actual list. Like, I don't have a list of things written down anywhere. It's more of a casual list, in my head.”
Luthor fixed me with his gaze. “Is swimming pool sex on the list?”
I covered my smile with one hand. “Not before, but it is now.”
“About that,” Simon said. “Next time, could you guys do it in your pool, not ours?”
I gasped and covered my mouth with both hands.
Suzanne elbowed Simon and then leaned across the boat to pat my knees. “It's okay. It was dark out and he barely saw anything before I dragged him away from the window.”
