The smell of salt and sunscreen still clung to my hair as I unlocked the door to our hotel room. It was that particular scent that lingers after a day at the sea—a mix of iodine, sweat, and the sweet aroma of coconut. I loved that smell, because it meant vacation, freedom, letting go of everyday life.
“You smell like summer,” said Markus, who was already lying on the bed, a book in his hand that he immediately lowered when I entered. His eyes wandered over my body, still in my wet bikini. I let my gaze roam: He wore only a light linen pants, his upper body naked, the tan from a few days already clearly visible. But his attention wasn’t solely on me.
“And you? Didn’t lift a muscle while I was at the beach all afternoon?” I teased him, letting the wet top fall to the floor. The cool air from the air conditioner made my nipples hard.
“I was reading and waiting for you. Besides, I was with Tom at the pool,” he said casually. Tom. The vacation acquaintance we’d made two days ago. A tall, lanky guy with sand-colored hair and a voice so deep it echoed in my belly. He was alone here, or rather, without a companion, and Markus had taken an immediate liking to him.
“Oh really? And?” I asked, letting my bottoms follow. Markus’s gaze grew more intense.
“He asked if you’d have dinner with us tonight. I said yes. He’s… interesting.” He emphasized the last word in a way that made me smile knowingly. We’d played these games before, in our thoughts, in late-night conversations. But we’d never actually done it.
“Then I suppose I need to make myself pretty,” I said and went into the bathroom. The mirror showed me a woman with flushed cheeks and damp strands of hair. I groomed my eyebrows, applied a touch of bronzing powder, put on a subtle lipstick. A light summer dress tied over the shoulders, and nothing underneath but my skin. When I came back, Markus whistled softly.
“You look stunning.” His voice was rough. “Come here.” He pulled me onto his lap, his hands sliding under the skirt, stroking my bare thighs. His breath was warm on my neck. “Are you ready?” he whispered.
“For what?” I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant.
“For him to have you tonight.” The words made me shiver. It was the first time he’d said it so directly.
“Yes,” I breathed.
We met in the hotel bar. Tom stood at the counter, a beer in hand, and when he saw us, a smile spread across his face. He wore a light shirt, sleeves rolled up, and his skin was tanned, his arms muscular. “There you are,” he said, and his voice was even deeper than I remembered. “I reserved a table inside, if you want.”
Over dinner, we talked about everything and nothing. Tom was an engineer, traveled a lot, had stories of faraway places and even more distant adventures to tell. Under the table, I felt Markus’s hand on my knee, wandering, pressing. I tried to breathe calmly, focused on Tom’s lips closing around his beer glass, on the way he laughed, deep and full.
At some point, when the wine was already several glasses deep inside me, Tom placed his hand on mine. “You’re a special couple,” he said, and his eyes rested on me, then on Markus. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”
“What do you mean?” asked Markus, his voice calm, but I felt the tension in his body.
“This… openness. This ease between you. It’s… attractive.” His fingers stroked the back of my hand, and I let it happen, felt my pulse quicken.
“Thank you,” I said softly. Markus squeezed my knee, a sign of encouragement.
After dessert, Markus suggested another round at the bar. Tom ordered whiskey, neat. I sipped a cocktail, watching the two men talk about something I no longer understood. All I perceived was the heat radiating from Tom, the look he gave me when Markus briefly went to the restroom.
“Your husband is a lucky man,” he said, and suddenly his hand was on my bare leg, high up, hidden under the table.
“You think so?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Yes. You’re… incredible.” His fingers pressed lightly into my flesh. I involuntarily parted my legs, an invitation. He grinned, but didn’t move his hand further.
When Markus returned, the air was thick with tension. “I’m going to the room,” I said suddenly. “I’m tired.” It was an excuse, we all knew it.
“I’ll be right up,” said Markus, and his gaze met Tom’s. Something passed between them, a silent agreement.
In the room, I undressed, lay naked on the bed. The sheets were cool and smooth. I waited. The minutes stretched. I heard footsteps in the hall, voices, then the door opening. Markus entered, and behind him, Tom.
“I hope this is okay,” said Tom, his voice trembling slightly.
I nodded, sat up. “Yes. Come here.”
He stepped to the bed, let his clothes fall. His body was lean but sinewy, muscles clearly defined under the skin. His cock was already half-hard as he leaned over me. Markus sat in the armchair by the window, a glass of whiskey in hand. From the corner of my eye, I saw him lean back, cross his legs, and watch.
Tom’s first kiss was gentle, almost hesitant. His lips tasted of smoke and whiskey, and I opened to him, let his tongue slide in. His hand wandered over my breast, cupped it firmly, and I moaned softly. Then he moved his mouth lower, over my neck, my nipples, which he circled with the tip of his tongue until they were hard and sensitive.
“Yes,” I whispered, arching toward him.
He took his time, savoring every inch of my skin, while I felt Markus’s gaze on us, heavy and intense. Tom’s mouth traveled lower, over my belly, down to my wet slit. His breath was hot as he bent over me, and then I felt his tongue, demanding and skilled. A cry escaped me as he found my clit, circled it, sucked, licked. I grabbed his hair, pressed him harder against me, as waves of arousal rolled through me.
“Oh, God, Tom…” I moaned. From the corner of my eye, I saw Markus, touching himself, his pants open, his cock in his hand. He loved to watch, I knew that.
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