The Bikini Diaries (19 page)

shorter than other ones she'd seen him in—and she wondered now what the design was.

And she kind of wanted to touch it for some reason. She'd never known a guy with

tattoos before.

Finally she popped the cork, and it was time to go back out on the balcony. The cold, wet bottle felt good in her hand as she walked to the door, her cunt still overly sensitive, her skin practically humming with lust.
You'll feel better after you sit down.
After all, she'd felt fine—much more normal—before she'd stood up.
You've just had a little too much

wine.
In fact, she probably shouldn't drink any more.
This will be fine. You'll sit with them
a little longer, talk a little more, and then Pete
will
go home. And maybe you'll be sorry
to see him go in a way, but then you can fuck Brandon like a
wild
animal if that's what
you feel like doing. You can expend all your lust for both men on him—and he'll love
it,
and you'll both come like crazy, over and over again.

"So what have you been doing," Pete asked as she moved through the open door, "to check out the whole resort in just a few days?"

"Well, hitting the beach, of course. Trying some of the restaurants. And
shopping,"
she added playfully, letting her eyes go girlishly wide.

"Women and stores—a dangerous combination," he said as she stepped up between the two guys to begin filling his wineglass. 'Any purchases?"

"Um... these shoes," she said, then stepped back and struck a pose to show them off. -

"Holy God," Pete said, glancing down in admiration. "Those are fucking sexy."

'And believe it or not," she added, teasing, "I don't make my living twirling around a pole."

"You could."

She lifted her gaze for a glance into Pete's eyes and knew her panties were officially

soaked now.

But she had to regroup. So she started pouring wine into Brandon's near-empty glass and

went on. "Now that I think about it, I've bought everything I'm wearing at the moment since getting here—right down to my boy-short panties."

Oh God. Had she just done that? Brought up her panties?

She tried not to act embarrassed—and maybe it didn't even matter, given the friends-

with-benefits discussion.

"Boy-short panties?" Pete scrunched his brow. "What are
those'!
They sound..."

"Ugly, I know," she replied on a giggle. "But they're
really
sexy."
Oh yikes
—
shut up
about your undies already.

On the other side of her, Brandon was shaking his head and looking perplexed as well. "I don't know what they are, either. Have I, uh, seen you in them before?"

She didn't even bother blushing by this point—instead the warmth that ascended her body

was about something else, about discussing their sex in front of Pete, even if only in a very mild way. Did it plant a picture in
his
head, just like the mention of Pete's sex life had planted one in
hers?
Was Pete imagining Brandon plunging his cock into her right now? Was he hearing her whimpers and moans in his imagination? "Uh, no," she replied, short, simple.

"Then... what are they?"

She'd been just about to go back to her chair and take a seat, but now, instead, she set the wine bottle on the table and used her hands to try to "draw" the slight V-shape of the wide panties across her hips. "They're the same basic width all the way around—but they mold to the body in a very hot way."

"Why don't you just show us?" Brandon suggested.

Her eyes shifted to his and she knew, felt—it was almost as if he was daring her. Or

telling her... that her desire was stronger than her intent.

Was it?

Part of her wanted to say no, to show him she was truly serious about not fooling around with them both—because she
had
been,
totally.

But another part of her still yearned to be wild for him, to be his personal porn star. That same part of her felt the tick of the clock she'd written about in her journal earlier—the sifting sand, racing away, reminding her she might never feel this hedonistic again, or

have such sensual, sexual opportunities laid before her. And that same part of her had

also thought the panties looked amazingly sexy in the mirror when she'd put them on

earlier, and she simply suffered... the urge to show them off.

She'd never felt so brazen and free as when she stepped back slightly, bit her lower lip, then used both hands to gather the flirty skirt of her dress in her hands—slowly, so

slowly, teasing, stretching it out. Her inner thighs tingled, and her cunt felt heavy with anticipation as she lifted the dress higher, higher, until the front was raised to her waist and her pink lace panties were on display—her pussy maybe, too, through the delicate

fabric.

As Brandon and Pete both looked at her there, their eyes going glassy with lust while

they studied her unabashedly, her face went warm—her whole body, in fact.

"Jesus," Pete muttered beneath his breath.

Brandon lifted his gaze to hers to say, "So pretty, baby," in a low voice that turned her inside out.

She simply drew in her breath, ribbons of pleasure running down her thighs. She liked

this too much, being on display for them.

"And from the back?" Brandon asked in that same smoldering voice that told her how aroused he was. Neither his look nor his tone held any dare now, no private
I told you
so—
just pure, deep, sensual longing.

Pulling in her breath again, Wendy slowly turned around, looked out over the ocean,

arched her ass the same as if she were offering herself up to be fucked, and reached with both hands to lift the dress in back.

She knew what the panties looked like from that view, too. They hugged every contour of

her flesh and revealed the lower curves of her rear, at the same time visually slimming

her hips and covering a few imperfections—all making her feel sexy as sin itself.

"Ah,
God, bunny," Brandon rasped.

When Pete didn't issue a response, she surprised herself—a common occurrence this

week—by peeking over her shoulder, lowering her chin, and saying in her sultriest voice,

"Do
you
like them, Pete?"

His eyes shot upward from her ass to her face—he appeared lost in lust, his very

expression tightening her nipples into even staffer peaks than they already were. "Nice ass, honey. I'm hard as a rock just looking at you."

Mmm.
Her pussy wept. And her stomach pinched with unadulterated desire.

And it all got worse—or better, depending upon how she looked at it—when Brandon

said, "Why don't you take your dress off, baby?"

Something in her throat constricted. Never in her life had a "point of no return" seemed so glaringly obvious to her.
Do it and this will happen. A menage a trois. Do this and you
are a changed woman forever.

But hadn't this game been
about
change? Excitement? The. very hottest sex? White Bikini Babe wouldn't hesitate in this situation. So neither did Wendy.

Reaching behind her to slowly lower her zipper, she looped her thumbs through the

shoulder straps and let the dress fall in a bunch to the balcony floor. Then she turned to face him.

On top she wore a pale yellow demi-cut bra with pink straps, dots of pink flowers

embroidered across the cups, and a pink bow between her breasts. The underwire lifted

them nicely, putting the upper curves on display—she knew from the mirror in her room

that they looked big and round and plump.

"You take my breath away, bunny," Brandon whispered in the waning twilight.

"Good," she whispered back.

Then he said, "Come here," and reached for her.

He molded his hands to her hips, then placed a kiss just below her navel, above the V in the panties, making her wetter still. "Turn around," he growled then, and she rotated carefully on her sexy heels until his hands splayed over both sides of her ass, his

fingertips digging in for a massage that stretched all through her as she automatically

arched and lowered one hand on the table for balance.

Which left her rather bent over, facing Pete. Their eyes met— she'd not quite realized

exactly how big and blue his were—but he wasted no time letting his gaze drop to her

breasts. And, oh God, she liked it there—it was like a touch, making them feel large and swollen and in need of attention. Her whole body hummed with desire now—which,

indeed, had quickly, crazily, gotten far bigger than her intent.

As Brandon continued to knead her ass, his thumbs stretching pleasingly toward her anus

to stimulate it as well, she found herself arching deeper, higher, hissing in her breath at the pleasure—the pleasure of this whole situation—and in effect thrusting her breasts

closer to Pete, who seemed completely entranced.

"He..." she murmured breathlessly to Pete about Brandon in explanation, "seems to ...

have a thing... for my ass."

Pete didn't lift his eyes from her chest as he replied, "And I think I... have a thing... for your luscious tits."

"Oh..." The words moved through her like liquid, making her cunt spasm, and she leaned her head back with a lustful sigh, pointedly offering her breasts to him.

Pete's palm rose to the side of her tit, making her moan, and with that touch, everything changed.

She became that kind of woman she'd never understood before.

She lost the ability to analyze her moves—or even think clearly.

She felt her sense of judgment and decision leaving her and she let it go willingly now.

She didn't need it here—it would only get in the way.

All that happened from this point forward would be about following instincts and soaking up pleasure—
dark, forbidden,
and utterly intoxicating pleasure.

Some
moments I feel guilty. Not guilty about the sex, but about Walter. What would he

think if he knew what I'd been doing down here besides analyzing the resort? Would

he be disappointed? Shocked? Horrified? I can't help thinking it would be all of the

above.

But then I remind myself that he told me to have a good time and not to work too hard.

I'm not sure he meant it as literally as I've taken it, but I guess what it comes down to

is... I've never done anything like this in my life. Not just the sexpart
—
but I've never

shirked a duty, I've never behaved unprofessionally, I've never played on the job.

This is my... renaissance. My rebirth. My revival.

Such a thing could have come in many ways. It could have been through a job,

through art, through working less, or more, through new friends, or hobbies, through

anything that made me feel new inside. But my personal renaissance just happened to

come through sex.

And sexual or otherwise, doesn't everyone deserve a renaissance at least once in their

life?

So instead of feeling guilty, I've decided to instead silently thank Walter, and this

journal seems like the best—and only, really—place to do it. So thank you, Walter, for

helping me find new parts of myself that I never could have predicted lay hidden inside

me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Chapter 9

W
hen Pete's thumb stroked across her nipple, she gasped and found herself writhing within both men's grasps. Behind her, Brandon still caressed her ass, his touches

scintillating— she'd never realized quite how sensitive her bottom was before meeting

him. As Pete took her breasts full in his hands, squeezing, massaging, she thrust her

fingers back through his thick dark pirate hair and kissed him, hard, loving the way his tongue instantly invaded her mouth and the rough scratch of stubble on her skin.

Behind her, her bra loosened, and she realized Brandon had undone the hooks, so she

shrugged free of it, letting it drop to the balcony floor as well, baring her tits for Pete. He let out a low groan, stopping their kisses to look at them, then resumed his full, vigorous caresses, flesh to flesh.

Having two men's hands on her was the most heady, wonderful thing Wendy had ever

experienced. Touches came from all directions, covered more area—pleasure seemed to

surround her. And she wanted still more of it.
Much
more.

Brandon seemed to read her mind as he said, "Stand up, baby," putting his hands on her hips to help her do so. When she did, pausing the hot action, taking a moment
to feel
what it was to stand between two hot guys in nothing but a pair of panties and fuck-me

heels, it was almost unreal. She felt beautifully on display. And so ready for more that she could taste it.

Brandon stood behind her, his tremendous hard-on nestled at the valley of her ass as he

reached around, dipping his fingers into the front of her panties, stroking through her

wetness to make her moan. Pete stood in front, holding her tits, bending to lick and

suckle them.

She heard noises leaving her—whimpers, sobs. Her whole body felt electrified. She

parted her thighs and moved against Brandon's touch in front, his cock in back, as she

watched Pete suck her elongated nipples, letting the draw of his mouth reach deep down

inside her. Her legs grew weak, but still she needed more somehow—so she reached

down to start working at Pete's belt.

Mmm, God, he
did
feel hard behind it, and suddenly there was no shyness—she couldn't wait to get to his sturdy erection.