The beach was all but empty on that hot afternoon, and solitary sunbeds and umbrellas dotted the horizon. Off in the shade of the coconut palms was an open-air pavilion, a legendary stop on this largely isolated stretch of beach. They said that one massage there could change your life.
The raised platform was covered with thick mats, and a bowl of sweet-smelling oil sat near the head of each one, a plumeria blossom floating gracefully across the surface. Gauzy white curtains billowed in the breeze. We sat on the edge of the platform and the quiet, tiny women washed the sugary sand from our feet. As we reclined onto our respective mats, she appeared. Her tiny black bikini suited her lithe figure, and her curly mass of auburn hair set off her fair and freckled skin. She climbed onto the mat next to me, her presence all but forgotten as I drifted, deeply relaxed by the rhythm of the waves and the soothing strokes of the masseuse.
An hour later I woke to the gentle sound of a gong and her hand nestled in mine. Despite the unusual feeling, I didn’t pull my hand away until it was time to leave. My lover and I gathered our things to set off. The redhead caught my eye as we left and winked, stirring a heat that surprised me.
He and I left hand in hand, an electric current passing between us, heightening the sensations Red had awakened in me. In the filtered gray light of our private bungalow I saw the man who’d long ago captured my heart and my owned my body. Where he’d gone…where I’d gone…was anyone’s guess. But that afternoon we saw our old selves, our old souls.
We knelt on the bed in front of the floor to ceiling mirror, our oiled skin glistening in the dappled sunlight. Piece by piece we pulled each other’s clothing off, admiring the emerging silken expanses of skin. Savoring the lustful look in his eyes, I ran my hands down his body, the oil coating my palms, my fingertips leaving trails across his skin. Eager and anxious he pulled me to him, crushing my lips with a kiss and slipping his hands down the slickness of my spine to the curve of my ass, teasing the sensitive and responsive flesh. I felt my body open for him as his fingers moved farther, seeking the wet heat that grew between my legs. I bared myself to him as I hadn’t in ages.
Softly he pulled my swollen nipples between his fingertips, eliciting a moan that brought back a rush of memories. Inflamed, I pushed him to his back, his thick cock rising against his belly and slid my oiled body over his until I felt the tip of him. With our gazes locked he pushed into me, pulling my hips against his, our bodies moving in sync with the crashing ocean outside our window.
It will change your life, they said.
It had rained all morning, a steady downpour beating on the hollow bamboo roof. The rhythm of the raindrops did nothing to soothe the anxious beat of my heart. For three days all I could think about was Red and the feeling of our fingers curled together as I woke from the massage.
I tried to lose myself in a book, in my knitting, in a word game, but none of the usually relaxing pursuits could calm my mind or the pounding in my chest. The rain slowed and the only sounds surrounding me were the birds calling to each other as the storm clouds passed.
I stepped out into to grotto and onto the narrow stone path winding through the thick vegetation. Crystalline drops glistened on the lily pads floating in the nearby pond, and streams of water cascaded from the treetops. The erratic drips and splashes were all that accompanied the twittering of the birds.
At the end of the path I reached the tub, hidden in the small grotto by the surrounding jungle. The midnight blue tiles shimmered, made slick by the rain. I reached in and turned on the taps, running a cool bath I hoped would calm my nerves.
I stepped out of my robe and sandals, standing gloriously nude in the grotto, my skin kissed by sunbeams crisscrossing through the canopy. I’d never been fully nude outside, and the sense of freedom was exhilarating. Despite the privacy of the grotto, I wondered if anyone could see me. I pulled the glass toy from my pocket and watched it glisten in the sun.
I slid down into the tub, the cool water licking at my feverish skin. My nipples rose hard and tight, the flesh darkening as the blood rushed through my body. For days I’d felt the ache between my thighs, the dull throbbing of my clit each time the thought of Red came to mind. As I ran the tip of the glass over my full breasts I remembered Red in her bikini. Her surreptitious wink flashed to mind again.
I pulled my knees to my chest and let the water run between my thighs, hoping it would cool the unexplained passions. As the water pulsed between my swollen lips the image of Red called to me, and I slipped the glass into my wanting cunt. Her sweet little ass and the perfect dimples on her lower back. The curve of her hip as she lay on her side on the cushioned platform of the bungalow. The feeling of our hands curled together.
The ache in my cunt grew as the water flowed and I pumped the bulbous glass against my g-spot. With a hard pinch of each nipple I felt the warm rush of my orgasm: the heated tingling in my belly blossomed and the powerful clenches rippled through my body.
Lying in the cool water I slowly came back to myself, the ache momentarily soothed. And yet, I was unexpectedly engulfed with desire for a woman I’d never see again. That night I whispered my desires into his ear as we fucked under the drumming rain.
As we finished our dinner, drinking coconuts and Havana Club and reminiscing about the last few days, the waiter handed me a note and nodded toward the doorway. I saw her curls before she turned the corner and disappeared from view. I flushed with desire just knowing that she’d been there, that Red had seen us, and I gripped the note tightly in my fist.
We drank in silence, glancing at the note that now lay folded on the table. Curiosity had the better of us, and over a sip of rum I opened the message.
"You are beautiful. I want to experience you. I will wait for you until 11. Yours, Siena."
The note was written on the stationery of the luxurious resort where we’d had our massage a few days before. The massage that changed everything when I woke with my hand nestled in hers. I passed it to him and waited. With a sparkle in his eye he nodded.
The path across the beach to the hotel was dimly lit, but there she was, sitting in the glow of a lantern. The light flickered over her mass of hair, dancing through it with golden streaks. She stood and took my hand—that hand—and the heated throb between my legs returned. Then she took his, and led us toward her casita.
With a hand to her heart she said, “Siena.” Her hand rested over my pounding heart. “Chiara,” I said, nerves strangling my voice. Finally she placed her hand on his chest. “Hers,” he said, and pulled out of the circle, leaving us together.
With a practiced hand she untied the knot of my sarong and pulled the makeshift dress from my body, finding me nude under the diaphanous silk. Goosebumps rose over my flesh as I stood under her gaze, my skin hot despite the chill in the evening air. “Your turn,” she said, pulling me in and kissing me, her hands pushing through my hair.
With trembling hands I unlaced the front of her dress and pushed the slender straps over her pale shoulders. With a soft smile playing on her lips she reached between my thighs and cupped a hand against my pussy, massaging the edge of her palm against my clit and teasing my wet lips with her fingertips. Her dress slipped away, revealing the lithe form that had haunted my dreams, and I sought her breasts with my mouth, tasting her flesh for the first time as her fingers pushed into my liquid hot core.
I fumbled, unpracticed, but eager to explore the softness of her freckled skin. For hours we touched and tasted each other, her skilled touch bringing me to overflowing orgasms that drenched our bodies. When the golden pink blush of dawn peeked through the windows we said our goodbyes.
I found him outside, sleeping on the veranda. Gently I woke him and led him back to our bungalow. With him inside me, I told him everything that had happened. “Yours,” I said when he came.
(Hey, girl! This erotica piece is a bit longer than most of the other pieces we have on the site. We'd love some feedback! Let us know in the comments if you'd like us to mix in some longer stories like this or want us to keep them short! We'd love to hear what you think! xx(x)