Changing Summer

I’ve been a casual reader of erotic fiction for a few years now, but this is my (our) first foray into writing. Except for the introduction, italicised text is commentary from my significant other. It’s all mostly based on true stories, with a little artistic licence for embellishment!

I’ve always been easy when it’s summer out. Bikini top tied in a neat bow at the back, bikini bottoms just good enough for a public beach and a short denim skirt to make it all decent in public. That’s my seaside wardrobe and I always look as hot as I feel. I know this because my boyfriend never fails to take advantage. All it takes is to lie on his lap in the shade under the one tree in our small garden, and sooner rather than later there’ll be a hand on my boob. He might be too much of a gentleman to take it any further outside, but that doesn’t stop me from teasing him.

I know how lucky I am to have landed her. I’m not a bad looking guy, but I still consider her out of my league. It’s a pleasurable torture spending summer so close to her, being able to stare unashamedly at her, and when we get home afterwards, act out my fantasies with her. Of course, this all requires that I give in to her puppy-dog look for everything from ice cream to slot machines.

We’re both 22, have both just graduated university and moved in together, and are now settling into life as adults. Until September we’re free to do as we please, and for us that’s a mix of the beach, hiking, and dancing. I’m 5′ 9″, blonde, about to pull a salary way more than my boyfriend and look like the accountant you wish you had. But I’m not just a pretty girl.

Our house is a two bedroom rental west of the city centre, best described as cosy with character. The fireplace is an original feature but has seen better days, but some tasteful furniture and decoration is bringing the old place into the 21st century.

As we lay on the sofa after dinner to catch up with Love Island, the wandering hands are back, and I want them. It doesn’t take him long to realise how much I want it, and then both hands are rubbing my breasts firmly. I start to murmur as it affects me. The stars of the show fade into the background, lounging on deckchairs in their bare-all swimsuits. That’s us in two weeks, but I’m not waiting that long to get my rocks off. He gets gradually more daring, perhaps stirred by a passionate embrace from the stars of this series. I squeeze his leg.

It starts with just a thumb rubbing over the triangle of fabric that forms my favourite bikini top and moves on until his whole hand is underneath. My nipples are hard and pointy and I am most definitely not cold. I am starting to get wet though, my mind now most definitely having drifted from the TV to how hot my boyfriend is and what I want him to do to me. Finally answering my prayers I feel his hand let go and run down my front further, further until it brushes my upper thigh. He must be able to feel the heat, feel the need emanating from my pussy, and though almanbahis he moves with cruel slowness it doesn’t take long for his fingers to finally press against my mons. Through the fabric again he traces smaller and smaller circles until two fingers simply press against my clit. I can’t take this any more. I wriggle free and sit up, straddling him for a kiss that shows him my passion. As if the wetness that had soaked my bikini and then his hand was not clue enough, as we kiss I pull free the knot that holds my top and shrug my shoulders to let it fall between us. I run my hands over and over his bare chest which the shallow part of me seriously adores, even more so when he does the same to me. His hands settle on the bubble of my ass, almost exposed now my skirt has ridden up so high.

We both dance a lot, but where my boyfriend prefers the salsa and ballroom side, I like to explore my inner acrobat. In school my drama teacher pushed me to learn the drapes, and I haven’t stopped since. It is all physically demanding, and keeps me in excellent shape.

My hand comes across his front and down to his waistband, hitting the barrier of his shorts. “Less clothes please,” I demand with no politeness, swinging my leg over to sit next to him. I kiss his neck, his cheek and his hair whilst he quickly pushes down his swim trunks and exposes my prize. Long and hard, I ache for it, my hand claiming it whilst I lay flat across the sofa to take it between my lips. I kiss the tip twice, looking up longingly at my boyfriend, who smiles gallantly and runs one hand through my hair. The other slips under my chest to find and cup my breast. We’ve been an item for little more than a year, but we know each other so well it seems far longer. I know I love him and I know he loves me just the same. I start by bobbing only gently, lightly teasing him the way he teased me. The house warming party the previous evening had gone on so late, and involved so much alcohol, that despite our desires nothing had happened between us besides collapsing asleep. This would make up for that. Moving up and down faster and faster, I pause for a bit just to pump his cock in my hand, taking the opportunity to look up at him again. His soft smile warms my heart as his hand squeezes my breast whilst his other still holds my hair in a handful out of my face. I go back to my prize, enjoying the attention he is paying to my breasts even as I try my hardest to distract him. He twists my nipple suddenly and I almost choked. Pausing, I very gently scrape my teeth half an inch as a warning. His finger tips withdraw and again he squeezes my whole tit. I murmur contently and continue until I’m forced to take a breather, looking up at him again. I smile at him with a knowing expression and a raised eyebrow and his widens as he squeezes my breast again. Dammit, I love that.

I roll over and sit up, changing places with him on the sofa. I push my skirt and bikini to the floor and open my legs for him. Kneeling between them, he almanbahis giriş pulls me closer and buries his talented lips in my pussy. His tongue finds the right spot almost immediately and I hear myself sigh deeply. It is all too easy to lose oneself.

She grabs the back of my head, subconsciously I’m sure, because I know her well enough now not to need guidance. I pay a little attention to her clit at first, letting the feeling spread through her whole body, but then move on to fuck her slowly with my tongue. She is wet, and her folds part easily for me. I sometimes go up, down and side to side, combined with my wandering hands making sure to assault her senses from every angle. I trace the curve of her breasts and slightly rippled tummy on top, and then the curve of her waist and hips, squeezing the point I know to drive her wild. Her urge to kiss me clearly becomes too strong as she drags me up to her. I offer my lips willingly.

I just wanted his tongue in my mouth and to put mine in his. He kisses me eagerly whilst guiding his manhood to my kitty blind, only barely disrupting our connection to find the right spot. I sigh and falter slightly as my pussy welcomes the familiar intruder and the feeling leaps another level of intensity. I’m not sure he had realised how horny I really was until he had pressed his face to my pussy, just as I had not realised until now how horny he was also. He breaks away from my grasp so his hands can take hold of my waist in a few slow, careful thrusts. I throw him a look that says “man up” and he responds, driving quickly inside me and then out again.

“Oh yeah,” I hear myself breathe; my head pressing back against the top of the sofa. Time and again his pelvis drives hard against mine and forces his shaft deep inside me. It’s something I am well used to, but that doesn’t diminish the effect one bit. I desperately want to ride his dick and to look into his eyes as I do so, but first my body needs the release that was building fast. I pull his head back close to mine and our lips mash together in a brief kiss. I hope that my facial expression conveys everything I am unable to say, and it seems so from the way that he touches me.

Once I’m satisfied that she is satisfied, I withdraw from her grasp to maintain the rhythm that was close to getting her off. My pace is forceful but not harsh, and when those things are perfectly balanced consistently it is easy to drive her wild. Her cheeks flush rosy and her hands clasp the throw, both good signs she was about to lose it. I let go of her hips and squeeze both areolas which proves too much for her and triggers release.

Delirium is more accurate. A brief, few second long delirium in which every sense shuts down and my whole body relaxes totally. The model gentleman, he makes only sparing and slow movements whilst I ride my orgasm through, holding his lips above mine whilst I catch my breath. Even in that state I realise that I’m not completely overheating, a testament to his almanbahis yeni giriş power to hold himself over me without touching. When I open my eyes he begins to move slowly again, recognising I’m through, but I stop it by pinning my legs around him.

“Get on your back,” I say without a quiver in my voice, eagerly getting up so we can swap places. I fold one leg up on the sofa with the other on the floor, positioning myself perfectly over his hard shaft. In the year or so we’ve been together in total, this is probably nudging the three hundredth time, so I easily position myself in the right spot for his shaft to slide into my wet pussy. I rock from side to side a few times to make sure the angle is right and then pause to take a long gulp from the glass of water on the side table. I look at him with a seductive smile which earns me a squeeze of the thigh before I start a sweeping rocking motion. I have a self confessed obsession for acrobatics and I know that my boyfriend appreciates this a lot, so I try to show off to him at every chance I get. Balancing with my arms in the air and legs split almost perpendicular to my body I could still keep up an easy motion. I’ve found that doing this kind of thing as practice helped my actual dancing, because if you can hold a seemingly awkward pose whilst mid-way to cumming you can hold it any time you like. My boyfriend caresses my thighs as they flex to keep up the rhythm. His thumb touching the inside skin is in fact a huge weak spot for me, something I had learned to my cost several years ago with a poor lad who had a major crush on me (that’s another story). I let him do it, because if he is doing it, it’s because he is struggling for stamina. I smile devilishly at him and lean forward, pushing my breasts out towards his face. It seems that this is a bit too much for him, because after barely thirty seconds of it my boyfriend grunts heavily and his chest goes weak. I slow to a more gentle rhythm and lean down to him, locking our lips together as I feel his cock jerking between my legs as it releases his load inside me. Flexing my abs to their limit I rock slowly whilst his orgasm subsides, dragging my clit across his body with each movement.

“That was fun,” I say in a teasing voice.

He looks at me with a softly mocking smile. “More fun than watching love island.”

I flex my kegels, and though he has started to soften I can see he feels it.

“You should take it as a sign of my devotion to you that I’m willing to sit here and watch it at all.”

“You’re totally a closet fan.”

“Am not.”

“No boyfriend is so devoted that they would gossip about it if they hated it.”

He was floored then. “Fine.”

I kissed his forehead. “You’re sweet.”

After a few more minutes of my second favourite part, cuddling, I stand up, moving very gingerly to avoid spilling cum all over my prize throw. We exchange a cheeky smile and I feel his gaze on me as I leave the room.

Having cleaned up, I grab one of his shirts from the chair by the dressing table and slip it on on my way back downstairs. Collapsing onto the sofa my elbow lands in his side, deliberately. He elbows me back and we cuddle up as he rewinds the past half hour of the show.