Liquid Pleasure

© Smashwords 2012

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The first few hours at the clothing-optional
Spa had passed normally enough; I’d soaked in the pools after my
long drive north from San Francisco, had a strenuous massage from a
tiny bird-like woman who’d pressed all sorts of tender points I
never knew I had, and reeled out of her office and back to the
pools with what seemed like a ton of tension lifted off me. I felt
light and graceful in the water, the warm afternoon sun shining
down on my face, my creamy neck and shoulders, and the tops of my
breasts.

Looking down, I wished I could touch my
nipples: my whole body felt in need of a good stroking, of a more
delicious release. But I was here alone, as always, and in the pool
with me were the usual clusters of couples, looking deep into each
other’s eyes as they smiled and chatted in low voices. The warm
pool was the social pool; it was OK to talk softly here. In the hot
pool next door silence reigned, and beyond that the little cold
plunge was even more serene, and usually empty. I could sit there
for as long as I liked and look at the trees, breathe the fresh
country air and meditate. But what I wanted this evening was
something more carnal, I was beginning to realize.

I looked boldly at the women and men entering
the pool. They all had what society deemed gorgeous bodies, tanned,
brown, lithe. My own build was voluptuous and my skin tone was
pale, though the sun and the massage had brought a deep healthy
flush to my face. I had come here a handful of times and each time
I’d come away feeling restored, happy ... but always with a tingle
of dissatisfaction. I felt so sexual here; yet it was as if I were
invisible, an overweight girl in my early twenties. My desires
would most likely never be satisfied, I thought, because I wasn’t
looking for a boyfriend … the single men I noticed here didn’t
tempt me, and I ignored them. Nor would I find a girlfriend here in
this heterosexual scene. What obsessed me was a fantasy I’d had for
a long time: a man and a woman inviting me into their bed for hours
of caressing and penetration, fucking and sucking. I would think of
it tonight, I mused, as I lay in my sleeping-bag in the dorm room,
probably listening to a couple doing it next door. That would be
the closest I would get to sexual satisfaction. I would lie there
drifting off to sleep, deeply relaxed yet aroused. The room would
be full of empty beds whose occupants were off getting lucky.

Under the water I gently stroked my nipple,
imagining a woman’s rosy mouth suckling and biting me, her fingers
slipping into my pussy, exclaiming at the wetness. I closed my
eyes, leaning against the side of the pool. She whispers in my ear
that her boyfriend is going to give my pussy a long hard pumping
with his dick, but first she’s going to show me how well she can
eat me out. As she demonstrates, her lover kneels behind her,
fondling her ass, spanking it. She moans into my cunt, her tongue
flicking in and out the way I love it, and as her tongue probes me
skillfully, his lubed cock slides into her. I try to watch, but my
eyes are fluttering and my face is burning. I close my eyes,
listening to the delicious lapping of her mouth on me mixed with
the louder, raunchier sounds of his cock working inside her, flesh
slapping against flesh.

They don’t really have names or faces. These
dream lovers are always anonymous, always eager, getting down to it
right away with no nervous preliminaries. Would I really have the
courage to do it, I wondered. Probably not. The sun was setting,
and the water felt slightly chill. Maybe I should go steep in the
hot pool for a bit, step out and go have dinner. The truth was,
despite my fevered imaginings I had only slept with a few people, a
couple of men, a handful of women, and mostly one night stands,
enough to know how good physical intimacy could feel, but not
enough to rid me of the feeling of being clumsy and awkward,
ashamed of my body, a little frozen and shy. Why should anyone want
me, I asked myself a little sadly, shaking myself out of my
lingering fantasies.

A couple beside me was kissing. Making out
was discouraged at the Spa, but always happened. People politely
averted their eyes, each in their own little bubble. It tantalized
me that I was close enough to touch them, close enough to put my
hand on her plump breast, just as he was doing now. She was the
only woman in the pool with full breasts besides me, I noted. They
were both large-boned, tall, and seemed utterly at ease with
themselves. She had lovely dark hair and he did too, dark curly
hair. It was even less likely that they’d be interested, for my
hair was dark too. Didn’t opposites always attract?

As he cupped his hand on her breast and bent
to kiss her nipple, she smiled at me. I blushed, giving a hesitant
smile back.

“Sorry for staring,” I said in a low voice.
“You just look...”

“Blissed out?” she said with a laugh. “It’s
not as if he hasn’t been at me for the last two hours. Jeez, I
thought you’d at least give me a rest in the pool!”

She spoke affectionately, and her partner
raised his head.

“Honey, I’ve just given you three
orgasms.”

“So give it a rest now, babe.”

He looked at me, shrugging. His eyes were
very clear, shining and happy. They both looked like an
advertisement for something, I thought. Something I would want.
Something wholesome, actually. Maybe young campers, out on a hike.
No, one of those weekly camping trips that I had never gone on,
with bonfires every night and couples having surreptitious sex in
their tents.

“The truth is, she’s a total slut,” he said,
grinning. I glanced around. Nobody was looking our way.

“You seem embarrassed,” the girl said.

“No, well it’s just...you obviously want to
be alone...” I kept waiting to be dismissed, but they seemed
intrigued with me for some reason.

“Hey, we’ve just spent two days here
wallowing in each other. I think it’s time to

come up for air.” She shook her thick mop of
dark hair and I watched her despite myself, drawn by her
vibrancy.

“I’m Angela,” she said. “And this is my
boyfriend David.”

“I’m Lisa.”

“Are you a student?”

“Yeah, I’m doing my masters at S.F.
State.”

“That’s funny, so are we!” As we chatted,
comparing notes on our different

programs (he was in science, she in drama, I
in writing), I wondered about their banter earlier. Had they wanted
to test me? Our talk was so mundane now, it was easy to believe we
were clothed and at a party somewhere, sipping our first glasses of
wine and making small talk. The only thing that kept catching my
eye was the way Angela rubbed up against David. He was holding her
gently from behind. Her lovely breasts with their large nipples
bobbed on the water. I kept swallowing and trying not to look.

“Would you have dinner with us tonight,
Lisa?” Angela asked quickly, out of nowhere. I felt a sudden twinge
of nervousness and looked down.

“We promise not to bore you,” David said. “We
have lots of stories.” When I met their gaze they were both smiling
at me.

“Does that mean I won’t get any attention?” I
joked.

“We’ll give you lots of attention, won’t we,
David?” Angela inquired.

OK, I thought to myself. Just dinner. I had
always disliked eating alone at the Spa; it was the only part of
the trip that seemed lonely to me. As for anything else, it seemed
so unlikely that these attractive creatures walking out of the pool
in front of me would want more. I hung back self-consciously, then
forced myself to climb the steps, wishing the distance to my towel
was shorter. As I wrapped it about me, I noticed them looking at
me, and smiling. They were being kind, I thought, but nothing will
happen.

Did I even want it to? Wouldn’t I feel too
guilty and freaky anyway?

They weren’t lying about the attention,
though. What I discovered over dinner, as we ate the vegetarian
fare served at the Spa restaurant and demolished the bottle of wine
they magically produced from their backpack, was the fact that I, a
single woman, alone and planning to spend the night chastely in the
dorm, seemed oddly fascinating to them.

“Hey, it’s a Saturday night, that can’t be
much fun,” Angela murmured.

“It’s all the fun I’ve ever had.” Emboldened
by the wine, I blurted out: “I’ve

never got laid up here.”

“Never say never,” David quipped. We all
laughed, and I blushed hard.

“She blushes adorably, doesn’t she, David?”
Angela remarked. I didn’t dare to

meet his eyes.

“Shyness is so endearing. I’ve never been
shy. David’s the shy one; he always

tells me I have a big mouth.”

“Useful in bed,” David said, yawning.

She grinned. “Before I met David, I hadn’t a
clue. About anything. I had no idea

how good life could be. I didn’t even know I
liked women. He was the one who talked to me about my fantasies.
I’d never discussed fantasies with a guy before. What was the
point?”

I didn’t say anything. So there it was, out
on the table. What would come next?

“And all my boyfriends before him were so
fucking possessive. With David, my inner flirt has definitely been
released. Hasn’t it, hon?”

“I like to see her flirt with women,” David
said ruefully, rubbing his chin. “The problem is that the women she
goes for would rather I wasn’t around. I can understand that; I’m
good at getting out of the way.”

“I told him the next time I’d include him.
It’s only fair.”

I still didn’t say anything, gulping my
wine.

“You’re his type—soft and sweet. He loves
real women, with big tits, don’t you,

David?”

“Ah, stop it, Angie. You’re being
obnoxious.”

“But I’ve been a loudmouth from the first
minute we met her. I think she kind of likes it. I think she wants
someone to take charge, to run the show. Is that what you want,
baby?”

She looked at me, smiling. There was such a
difference between her brassy words and her pretty face and warm
eyes. Yet the aggressiveness that might have bothered me

before now seemed exciting. He was gentle,
and that seemed exciting, too.

“Maybe,” I said, blushing. “Look, I don’t
really know what I want. I’m pretty inexperienced.”

I sounded so goofy, I thought. So naive.

They exchanged looks. “There’s no pressure,”
Angela continued, “but we’d like you to come back to our room and
we can take it from there. Would you be up for that?”

I hesitated, then nodded.

* * *

I was lying naked in their bed. The room was
dark and warm, lit by a lone candle that Angela had set on the
table near the door.

She was resting on my breasts. What shocked
me was the tenderness I felt as I stroked her hair. Earlier I had
gripped it as she moved expertly between my legs, her tongue
strokes sharp and strong and rapid on my clit. She had told me she
would not be happy until I screamed with pleasure, and I had
privately thought how unlikely that was, for I had never uttered
more than faint moans during sex before. Something she did with her
tongue made my cunt come alive. I sobbed and begged and finally
spasmed hard as she moved her fingers in and out of me like a pro,
like a seasoned dyke.

I wanted more. She could sense it, as she
moved sensuously off my slick body, making room for David. He
kissed my mouth, my breasts, his hand sliding down between my legs.
He began to tell me how beautiful I was, how they had watched me as
I walked out of the pool after them. “We saw you were nervous and
self-conscious and you had no need to be, no need at all. You
should be proud of these fantastic tits, this belly, these thighs.
God, you’re so soft. And wet. Baby, you’re so wet.”

He bent down and began to lick me. I relaxed
totally as Angela tongued my earlobe, kissed me lingeringly, her
hands on my nipples and on her lover’s hair.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” she whispered
hoarsely.

“Yes,” I murmured, and then “yes, yes...”

When he moved up and into me it felt almost
liquid, despite the weight of his body, which added to the
pleasure. His cock seemed to dip inside me, my legs wrapping around
him in an instinctive movement. It had none of the fumbling of my
few previous encounters with men.