“Well,” said Vianne, slapping her palms against her muscular thighs in that definitive way that I’d been dreading. “We’ve got an early morning ahead of us.”
“Of course, of course,” said Debbie, one of the two older American women resting at the near edge of the pool, with a margarita perched on the tile rim between her hands.
Debbie’s wife, Diane, nodded beside her and reached up to my deck chair to squeeze my hand, and run her thumb along my wrist the way she liked to do. “It’s been such fun.”
It had been fun, this whole holiday, more fun than I’d been expecting. The beaches, the drinks, the swimming pools designed for relaxation instead of cutthroat competition — it was all enough to make spending a week with my swim mates downright enjoyable.
Not that we hadn’t found ways of casually slipping competition into our relaxation. I would have won the breath-holding contest if that one lifeguard hadn’t interrupted.
But the best part of the trip by far had been getting to know Debbie and Diane. There was no contest to that.
For seven days, I’d been taking every chance I got to listen to their stories, which seemed to be bottomless and got racier the longer we’d been drinking. And I’d been sharing what few comparable stories I had myself, of my adventures with men and women and occasionally both at once. These were stories I’d never expected to share with anyone who hadn’t been part of them, but in the company of these two awe-inspiring sexual veterans of the world, anything I had ever done felt far too tame to be a secret.
Debbie and Diane never tried to make me feel that way. They gasped and clapped and cackled at every detail, making me feel like a legend on their level. They were clearly giving me bonus points for my age. Diane called me “precocious” at one point, and Debbie had made a running joke of looking scandalized whenever anyone served me alcohol, even though we all knew that you had to be an adult to stay at the Cosas Salvajes Resort in the first place.
These two women already felt like some of the best friends I’d ever had. And now it was ending.
Tonight was my last night in the Canaries. Tomorrow morning, my swimming friends and rivals and I would be rushing through one last round of empanadas from the all-inclusive breakfast buffet while we double-checked every bag for the flight back to Ireland.
That wasn’t a completely dismal thought. I did miss home. I missed Conner, my boyfriend, especially, and I was looking forward to hearing about everything he’d done during his “hall pass” week without me. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more I needed to do here, something to make this week real, not an illusion that would dissolve as soon as I was no longer surrounded by warm, white sand.
“You know, I think I’ll stay a little later,” I told Vianne.
“’Attagirl!” Debbie whooped, while Diane clapped her hands excitedly together.
Vianne raised an eyebrow, and a few of the others did the same, while continuing to gather their things. She surveyed Debbie, Diane, myself, and our drinks, and I could practically watch the gears of threat assessment turn in her head. If Debbie and Diane had been men, Vianne probably wouldn’t have agreed to leave me there, but as it was, she just sighed heavily and said, “Don’t make us look for you in the morning, okay?”
I made my promises, swung my legs over the side of the lounge chair, and slipped into the clear, blue water between the two older women.
Debbie caught me around the hips, unnecessarily, on the way down, and Diane held my hand, even more unnecessarily, while Debbie set me on my feet on the smooth tile pool bottom. The water reached just high enough to lap over the low neckline of my one-piece bathing suit.
“I hope you’re not waiting until we’re ready to part with you,” Diane said in her smooth sweet voice, watching my friends leave over my shoulder. “Because we’ll keep you here all night.”
“All night?” Debbie laughed in her deeper, booming chest tones. “We’ll keep you until you forget you don’t live here.”
“Consider me warned,” I said, reaching under the chair I’d just come from for my mojito, and taking a sip.
Diane put her arm around Debbie and turned to look out toward the horizon. The pool had one of those “infinity” edges, where the water endlessly spilled over one low glass wall, giving the illusion that the pool continued right out to the ocean. It was all the more beautiful and unbroken now that we were the only bathers left.
“What would it be like to have a view like that in your life every day?” Diane sighed.
At that, Debbie turned her around and kissed her. It wasn’t a quick peck. It was the kind of deep, intimate, unreserved kiss that was first exciting to watch, heightening my tipsy full-body tingles, and then mildly awkward, as the soberer side of my mind wondered if I was supposed to look away.
Just when I was beginning to wonder if I’d totally misread the tenor of their friendliness and should make a polite exit after all, they broke apart, and Debbie reached out toward me.
“Have you ever made out in a place like this, Siobhan?” she asked.
“A pool, yes, all the time,” I answered. “But a place like this, no, never.”
“Would you like to?”
“I was really hoping you were going to ask that,” I admitted, wading over to the couple.
Debbie took my hand and placed it in Diane’s.
With the closest thing to shyness I imagined either of them to be capable of, Diane tugged me closer and placed one hand at the small of my back, the other under my chin.
She was the smaller of the pair, an inch or two shorter than me, and still with a strikingly athletic frame under her weathered skin. I liked to imagine that I’d be in that kind of shape when I reached my fifties, and that I’d be showing it off in barely-there bikinis the way Diane did.
Her long, reddish-brown hair hung down in two ribbons over her small chest, nearly covering the top of that bikini, and making her look like a naked vision of some ageless nature spirit.
She leaned in slowly, more slowly than I had patience for, and I met her sooner than the middle. Her lips were slightly windburned and tasted of orange and honey rum, and the gentle contact instantly made me feel twice as drunk as before.
“Is it okay if I touch you?” Debbie asked from behind me.
“Anywhere you like,” I confirmed, just barely removing my lips from her wife’s for long enough to make the words heard.
“Promise to tell me if I make you uncomfortable?”
“Promise,” I mumbled into Diane’s mouth.
Debbie’s softer, broader body pressed in behind me, as her strong, confident hands began to caress my shoulders, working their way methodically down to encircle my waist, and then toy with the edges of my swimsuit. She tugged on the leg elastics and let them snap down against my ass, the impacts slightly blunted by the water.
“I wish I could say I missed having a body like yours,” she said, “but the truth is, I was never much for athletics, even before my joints went to hell. I would have been as jealous of you at your age as I am now. More, actually, since that was before I discovered the joys of not giving a fuck.”
“It’s hot on you,” I said, dragging myself away from Diane’s lips once more, and spreading my attention across her jaw and down her neck. “Not giving a fuck.”
That was the first thing I’d noticed about Debbie, in fact. She had gotten up on the karaoke stage in a bright red sequined dress that was slitted to above her generous hips, and sung a song I didn’t know, definitely from before my time, which involved a shameless, riotous, downright hypnotic amount of gyration.
“I highly recommend it,” said Debbie.
“I highly recommend this,” said Diane, pointing animatedly at me as I sucked a trail of light, short-lasting hickeys along her collarbone.
“Enough to share?” asked Debbie.
I took the hint and twisted around between them, bringing my lips to Debbie’s. She wore a pink lip balm that tasted of cocoa and coconut, and her shorter, pixie-cut hair was perfect for running fingers through, even here in the tangle-inducing water. Her softer skin was harder to adorn with affectionate marks, so when I worked my way down her body, I just embraced burying my face in softness, burrowing my way between her large breasts to kiss her sternum.
Diane took over groping me from behind, though that word fit her actions in only the technical sense. Her touch felt like a friend and mentor’s encouraging pat on the back, only not limited to my back. Her hands brought that same energy with them as they explored the shape of my ass, and then made their way around between me and Debbie, to cup my breasts.
Apparently content with her turn, Debbie spun me back around, and for a moment in the transition, there were no hands on me in any place more intimate than my shoulders. Wanting to continue the sensation of contact, I brought my own hands to my breasts, squeezed a little more vigorously than Diane had, and then wandered one hand down between my legs, stroking at the intoxicated warmth there, which defied the water to cool it.
Debbie dropped her jaw in the same kind of mock-shock she used for watching me drink.
“What?” I asked. “Never seen someone else masturbate to you two before?”
Debbie put a hand over her wide mouth, which shifted into a smile. “Well, certainly not a pretty, fresh-faced ingenue like you,” she said. “Not in a while, at least.”
“That’s hard to believe,” I said.
Debbie and Diane affectionately swatted and shoved each other, giggling and whispering under their breath.
“Not to turn down a luscious compliment,” said Diane, looking pointedly down at my working hand, “but if there’s one thing you younger people especially struggle with, it’s being in such a rush all the time.”
“Stop me, then,” I said.
Debbie’s jaw dropped open again, authentically this time, and she and Diane shared another round of giggling shoves.
“Would you like that?” Diane asked, stepping a little closer.
“Christ, yes,” I said. “I haven’t had a good pushing around since I’ve been here.”
“You have no idea what a treat this is,” said Diane, placing her hands on my wrists.
She held my left hand in place by my side and tugged on my right one.
I intended to give her a bit of a fight, but the mature, reassuring, almost instructive way she shushed me while she took my fingers away from my pussy disarmed me of any argument.
While Diane folded both my hands behind my back, Debbie swooped in and wrapped her arms around my legs, just under the hips, the way she had caught me on my way into the pool. Reversing that motion, she lifted me up out of the water and carried me back to the edge, at just the right height to bend over it.
“You have some experience getting spanked, don’t you?” asked Debbie, running her hand over my ass, palming the elastic of the swimsuit.
I racked my brain for what specific story I’d told them where this came up, but it didn’t matter, the answer was the same.
“I do.”
“I think you could use a good spanking right now,” Debbie suggested.
“It might help you slow down,” added Diane, stroking the other side of my ass.
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” I warned them playfully. “But go on and try.”
There was another couple-y giggle behind me, and then a measured but respectable slap on my left cheek, the one on Debbie’s side. A lighter one followed on the right from Diane.
“Is that how you spank in your household?” I teased them. “I thought I was the novice here.”
Giggles turned to cackles, and a volley of harder, stinging, resounding smacks rained down on me, each one making me more and more certain that I would not be getting any sleep before the flight in the morning. Even if I did make it back to the room, I had never felt more awake and energized.
It was a unique experience, being spanked by two people at once, one I realized I’d never had before, even in my more crowded adventures. The rhythm was nearly non-existent, entirely unpredictable, even compared with the blows of a single person who was trying to be unpredictable.
One moment I was being smacked hard on both sides at once, just slightly out of sync. The next, I was getting alternating smacks and pinches on the right, and elastic snaps on the left, each of which sent a cool mist of water up into the breeze. There was simply no way to brace for this kind of attention, except to open up to anything and everything.
I loved that openness, and it was one of those feelings I could never achieve alone.
“How did you get so tough, honey?” Diane asked, in one of her gentler pinching phases.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound cool and casual instead of high on the compliment. “Thrill seeking, I guess. Every new thing you try makes everything else feel a little bit easier.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Debbie agreed, giving me an extra hard slap, a little farther down. Half her hand stung the bare strip of flesh where my ass met my thigh, while the other half skimmed the surface of the pool and splashed water across my back.
“You must be getting chilly up there, though,” said Diane. Her slaps had given way almost entirely now to soft, affectionate strokes of my reddened skin.
“No offense,” I said, “but there’s no such thing as ‘chilly’ this close to the equator.”
“You’d know,” said Debbie, cupping a double-handful of water and sprinkling it deliberately over the back of my neck. “For us, this is right about the same latitude as home.”
She leaned forward and blew on the extra wet spot she’d made. Diane joined in, sweeping her breath all the way down my back and particularly targeting the seat of my damp bathing suit, sending a draft right between my still glowing cheeks.
“But even a northerly island girl like you has to admit,” Diane whispered, bringing the movement of her breath up closer to my ear, “it would feel pretty good right now, to get this pretty torso back in the water and out of the air.”
I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy yearning desperately for something so close, so possible.
“Yeah, it would.”
“Are you going to follow our lead and go slow?” Debbie asked, in the most naturally teasing, faux-condescending voice.
“Yes,” I played my part meekly. “You set the pace. Play with me however you want.”
“I don’t know about you,” Diane whispered to Debbie, “but I feel like I could get lost in these legs for hours.”
She ran her hand down my hips to admire the definition of my thighs.
“Help me over to a shallow spot, and I’ll give you something to get lost in,” I proposed.
“So naughty,” Debbie laughed, giving me one last smack, but then she reached under my waist and hoisted me back down into the water.
I shivered pleasantly as it enveloped me.
We waded over to the pool’s shallowest edge, the one lined with a long, underwater tile bench.
My heart fluttered a bit at what I was about to do, how I was going to make myself so much more vulnerable than just bending over. Comfortable as I was in the water, I knew how quickly and easily serious accidents could happen. I really needed to be able to trust these two.
I did, though. I couldn’t help trusting them.
I took in a deep breath, ducked my head under the water, settled my hands on the smooth tile floor, and kicked my way up into a handstand.
The water rose just barely as high as my hips in this position, and the slight turbulence from our movement made little waves lap up and down over my pussy and the thin strip of fabric on top of it.
I pointed my toes and stretched my legs apart in what I hoped was a smooth, graceful motion. If there were a dozen or so of me, we could have formed a hypnotic synchronized forest of naked limbs.
Debbie and Diane instantly accepted my implied invitation. Each of them took one leg in her hands and stroked it with a reverence I could feel through my skin, even though I couldn’t hear from under the water what commentary they might be sharing between themselves.
A lot of time and attention went to my calves, and I was already beginning to feel the floaty, disorienting haze of low-oxygen blood rushing to my head as those hands made their way up my inner thighs, but I would not have interrupted them for the world when their fingers began to brush, and then slip under, the crotch of my swimsuit.
The need for air accelerated with my pulse, and I was equal parts disappointed and relieved when Debbie adjusted the swimsuit back into place after only a few light touches and put her hands around my ankles, guiding them firmly back down to the floor.
I allowed my upper body to surface and grinned at them both while I got my footing and gasped for breath.
Diane jumped right in to kiss me, avoiding my mouth while I was still panting, but using her lips to caress my cheeks, my ears, and my neck, before reaching my left breast. She pulled the top of my swimsuit aside, and Debbie did the same on the other side so readily that I wondered if they’d coordinated this while my head was underwater.
It was a thoroughly pleasant surprise, finding myself suddenly with a different mouth on each nipple. Diane sucked the left one with startling force, while Debbie worked her tongue methodically around the right, again giving my body too many different signals at once to prepare for. I let my feet leave the ground again, and floated up onto my back to offer more comfortable access.
And if this position also put my pussy within easy reach for them again, so much the better.
“Are you getting antsy again?” Diane asked sympathetically, lifting her face from my breast and catching on to my hint. She brushed her fingers lightly over the outside of that thin strip of fabric.
I nodded, unsure if I was hoping more for mercy, or for another round of them tossing me over the side of the pool and trying hopelessly to spank the antsiness out of me.
“Oh, babe, I want to touch her,” Diane said to Debbie, wringing her hands together, as if she were asking for encouragement to order some especially decadent dessert.
“Well, she’s right there waiting for you,” Debbie egged her on.
Diane clapped her hands together and peeled my swimsuit to one side, like the wrapper on a delicate confection.
She stroked me gently, rubbing the hood of my clit back and forth just a few times, prompting isolated sparks of pleasure, before tracing the edges of my labia and finding her way inside. She started with just her middle finger, wiggling it upward against my G-region.
I took in a breath as my pelvic muscles clenched around her. My clit twitched, looking for more of the touch it had just experienced, but it made contact with nothing but the gently lapping water.
“You can’t actually finish this way, can you, doll?” Debbie asked, placing her hands on either side of Diane’s, forming a diamond-shaped border around my pussy.
My clit remained untouched, and the pressure from Debbie’s hands transferred to it only distantly. The sensation was pleasant but not enough to give me any progress, just like the pressure of Diane’s finger inside me.
“Not a chance,” I answered.
“Good,” Debbie teased, pulling her hands away. “Makes it easier for me to keep you on a schedule. Like on a road trip.”
“She uses a stopwatch on road trips,” Diane warned, half-jokingly. “To make sure we’re keeping the perfect pace for optimal fun.”
I let my hands float up over my head, reiterating my surrender to the older couple’s languid timekeeping.
Diane slid a second finger into me, and in the low friction of the water, the pull of those two fingers was enough to drag me closer to her with each thrust of her hand.
“Oh, that’s neat!” she exclaimed, taking a few steps along the bottom and towing me along behind her by nothing but those two fingers hooked into my pussy.
I moaned at the sudden weight concentrated on that one sensitive spot. My ears were submerged about an inch down, so I heard the sound through my own skull more than the air. I was probably being terribly loud.
“You okay, kiddo?” Diane asked.
“Are we there yet?” I moaned, pouting out my lower lip, but not concealing the excited laughter in my voice.
Debbie snorted and patted me on the breast, pinching at the nipple. “I’ll tell you when we’re there, sweet thing.”
Diane took another step, mirroring the movement of her legs with her fingers inside me. My own legs spasmed, and I did my best to avoid kicking her.
“My turn,” Debbie announced.
Diane gave my clit a brief parting rub with her thumb, which in my current state was almost enough to tip me over the edge, but then the rub stopped, and Diane withdrew her fingers. Debbie replaced them a moment later with her own, which were wider, stronger. Diane rested her hands lightly on my ass under the water, and I felt myself skim past them when Debbie dragged me farther toward the deep end with one forceful, sustained pull from inside me.
Realizing that other guests of the resort could probably hear the sound I was making all the way from their rooms, I arched my back and dunked my head all the way into the water, letting the rest of one moan pour out of me in a muffled torrent of bubbles instead.
It was only seconds, though, before I had to surface for another gasp of air.
Diane caught my upper body in her arms and held me, stroking my breasts softly, while Debbie used those two fingers to pull me to the left, then the right, rocking me back and forth like a pendulum, with Diane as my anchor point.
The water’s turbulence gained a tantalizing amount of strength with that back-and-forth motion, brushing over and over my exposed pussy. I tried to think of it like a massage showerhead, but a showerhead would have offered more pressure, even on the lowest setting. This was enough to give hope, but not enough to follow through on that hope.
“Do you want to ask me that question again?” Debbie asked, stopping the motion to hold me in place. She thrusted her fingers straight up into my G-region again, while Diane held me steady by the shoulders.
It took me a moment to catch her meaning, but when I did, I couldn’t help but smile.
“Are we there ye—”
Debbie brought her thumb down firmly on my clit, making me break off with a cry of surprise.
“You tell me,” she said, rubbing me in brusque, efficient circles.
“Almost,” I groaned. “Almost. We’re so close if you don’t stop.”
“Then we’re close, hun,” she assured me, continuing her firm, circular attention without pausing.
I felt myself relax, even while the buildup continued, trusting that I didn’t need to worry about either rushing or holding back.
For one moment, I ceased to strategize. I forgot all about competing and impressing. I dissolved into the moment, the lapping of the cool water, the warmth of the rum in my blood, the scent of the ocean, so close by that this pool could be mistaken, from some angles, for part of it. The softness of Diane’s hands in my hair, on my cheek, around my breasts. The irresistible sureness of Debbie’s thumb and fingers.
It was a moment too perfect to be allowed on a postcard.
Diane gave my nipples a gentle squeeze, Debbie powered on at that unrelenting pace, and in a matter of seconds, the pleasure rose naturally past the point of containment. I cried out and bucked in their arms, and they went on holding me. Diane propped my face up in the crook of her arm as if I were some beginner who needed help to keep from drowning, but just for now, I didn’t care. If these two wanted to make it easier for me to let go even more completely, then I was letting go, I was gone, into the pleasure waves they had made for me, for as long as they lasted.
Debbie waited patiently for me to go completely limp in the water before sliding her fingers out of me and turning my legs gently upright again.
“Come on,” Diane said, with a kiss on my cheek, and guided me in a direction.
I followed along, still floating so high on the afterglow that I didn’t understand that we were headed toward the pool steps until my feet touched them.
Debbie got out of the water first, and then held her hands out to help both Diane and me.
“Let’s get you out of this wet thing, okay?” Debbie asked, tugging down on the straps of my swimsuit.
“Why?” I asked.
I must have sounded overwhelmed, because Debbie patted me on the cheek and used her most reassuring voice to say, “I just want you to lie there and be beautiful.” Her eyes flicked to a couple of the poolside lounge chairs, and then to Diane. “The scenery does enhance the experience, you know.”
I helped her peel the wet fabric off of me, more than happy to be counted as part of that scenery for these two. “It sure does.”
Diane rubbed me down with one of her own beach towels, to help with the negligible chill, and settled me down on one of the loungers, where I stretched out, completely naked, ready to watch as much as to be watched.
Debbie and Diane exchanged another round of excitable giggles as they raked their eyes over me, knocking their shoulders against each other.
“Enjoy the breather,” Debbie told me, lying backwards on the next lounger, with her head resting where her knees were supposed to go. “There’s plenty more of the night left.”
Diane climbed on top of Debbie, straddling her face in a sixty-nine, and the two of them unfastened each other’s bikini bottoms with practiced hands. Both of them managed to sneak glances at me as they slowly, methodically began to lick.
The sincere intimacy of the interaction was striking, the way they both so easily anticipated each other’s movements and responses, and I stared at them with a fair measure of awe at being included, even as an observer.
And I breathed. Debbie was right. There were hours left before dawn.
***
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