The first time I saw her was day number one at the resort. I had only been there fifteen minutes and was idly wandering through the maze of buildings, killing time while my room was being prepared. She was standing with her back towards me, organizing her beach bag that was propped up on a trash can, a perfect example of youthful beauty.

Wearing nothing more than a simple two-piece black bikini but wrapped in a shimmering sheer black skirt that really did nothing to conceal her figure, she turned around, and we exchanged looks with each other.

I was still in my airport clothes, a black one-piece jumpsuit, and my favorite straw fedora that goes with me everywhere. I probably looked a little haggard from the red-eye flight, but she smiled appreciatively, and at that moment, I knew that I wanted her.

The second time I saw her was an hour later, in the lobby, while I finally got my room key and was heading towards the elevator. She was casually strolling in from the pool, towards the hotel store, I assume, that sheer skirt flowing around her with every step. She could have been on the cover of any health and fitness magazine; the only discontinuity to that image was the bright fluorescent pink security band on her left wrist that identified her to the hotel staff as a paying guest.

I had more of an opportunity to appreciate her this time, although, in reality, I saw her for only a few seconds more than the first split-second meeting. In her early twenties, she was somewhere around 5’4”, with a body that spoke both of good genetics and an active lifestyle. She knew who she was and what she presented to the world. Her confident walk spoke volumes. 

Once again, we made eye contact, and we lingered for longer than was really appropriate, smiling at each other. 


The third time we saw each other wasn’t until two days later. Two days! Either the universe was torturing me by keeping her away from me, or we just happened to be on different poolside schedules. Either way, I knew the third time I happened upon this woman, I had to talk to her.

But she beat me to it. I was dozing in the heat of the afternoon, my fedora lazily covering my face, stretched out on a lounger that was strategically placed for not only maximum sun coverage but so I could watch all the lovers and their interactions. When she leaned over me, blocking the sun with her torso, and whispered,

I’m in room 339.

Before I could respond, she had dropped a room key on my stomach and walked off, letting me watch her playfully skip back to the hotel complex.

Things like this didn’t happen to me. And I was confused as to what to do next. But before all my anxieties kicked in and I convinced myself that I had totally imagined the last thirty seconds, I got on my feet. I knew once I got moving, my desire would keep me heading towards her room.

She opened the door, completely naked and unashamed by her beauty, and immediately kissed me. A soft, welcoming kiss, placed delicately on my lips, her hands touching my forearms, holding me in place less I run away from her directness. The kiss was divine, and for a moment, we just stood there, motionless, breathing in each other’s scent. She smelled faintly of bergamot and coconut oil, with a subtle hint of her sex. Or maybe that was me, as my pussy was totally wet.

She led me to her bed and skillfully removed my swimsuit. I was entirely at her command, but it didn’t feel like she was in control; instead, she was intent on savoring me with as few distractions as possible. Every touch of her fingers sent shivers of electricity across my skin.

She kissed me again, this time lying on top of me, my legs wrapped around her, my sex pressed against hers. It was a slow, lingering kiss, full of passion and desire, that seemed to go on forever. She kissed my neck, moving slowly down my torso, licking the subtle sheen of perspiration that was covering my body, sucking my breasts until I almost came. She knew exactly the amount of pressure my body wanted, and had I let her, I surely would have orgasmed from just her mouth on my left breast. But I gently nudged her, and she understood what I wanted next.

I knew from the very first moment I saw her that her mouth on my sex would feel perfect, but I wasn’t quite expecting her tongue to be so skilled. Over and over again, she brought me to the very edge of my orgasm, and at the last moment, she would pull back. It was amazing that someone could understand my body so clearly, and infuriating that she wouldn’t finish me. 

And as if she read my mind, which I was beginning to think she could do, her movements mimicking exactly how I liked my clit to be sucked, she held onto my hips and drove her tongue inside me. From perineum to clit, she licked me over and over until I finally came with the most violent of orgasms of my life. 

I just lay there. Breathless. Consumed by the pleasure coursing through my body.  She looked at me, gently stroking my arm, a coy smile across her beautiful face. Without thinking, I said,

I think I love you.

And then she kissed me.

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