The pool was calm under the late afternoon sun, the kind of heat that makes you drowsy. My friend and I slipped the straps off our bikinis and stretched out topless, laughing like two mischievous girls. We knew eyes were on us — maybe that was the whole thrill.
The Germans were close, two loungers away. Pretending not to notice, until one of them stood with a bottle of suntan lotion. There was no need for many words, just a clumsy “yes?” and our playful nods.
His hands were big, hot, spreading lotion across my shoulders, down my back… too slow to be innocent. I closed my eyes, but I knew my friend was getting the same treatment. Between us ran that silent spark, a secret current saying: “look at this, look at what we’re allowing.”
Then — women’s voices. Their wives, arriving with bags and towels. The men pulled back instantly, returning to their loungers as if nothing had happened. My friend and I exchanged glances, holding back laughter, our skin still slick with lotion and burning from the touch.
The wives were striking — tall, blonde, their curves perfectly framed by one-piece swimsuits. They moved with the confidence of women used to being admired. And maybe that was the hottest part: they were right there, a few meters away, completely unaware.
Not long after, the men rose, slipping on sandals with the excuse of heading to reception. We understood. We lingered a moment, then followed, pretending to be casual.
The hallway was cool with AC, goosebumps rising on my damp skin. I heard my friend’s nervous laughter as we trailed behind them. They didn’t turn, but everything about their posture said they knew we were coming.
We crowded into the elevator, the door sliding shut with a metallic click. Silence grew heavy. The hum of the motor, our quick breaths, their eyes fixed on us. One of them brushed my arm, slowly, deliberately. My friend squeezed my hand, and I had to stifle nervous laughter.
When the door opened, the long corridor stretched ahead, quiet as a church. Their key clicked loudly, unlocking the door. We slipped inside like thieves.
The room was cool, curtains half drawn, a golden slice of sunset cutting across the big bed. They dropped their sandals and shut the door with calm, but the tension was brutal. My chest rose and fell like I’d been running. My friend sat at the edge of the bed, laughing softly, already knowing there was no turning back.
One of them gestured with his hand, no words needed. We obeyed. Standing close, trembling hands betraying us. His fingers slid down my arm, and when I looked at my friend, the other German was already tugging her bikini aside, baring her chest.
Heat flooded me. He kissed me, clumsy with urgency, and untied my bikini top, pulling it away in one quick motion. His breath was hot on my neck, his body pressing me into the mattress.
Beside me, my friend gasped as the other shoved her panties aside and pushed into her with a force that made her moan out loud. The bed shook, our laughter had vanished into ragged breathing.
He spread my legs with ease, lowered himself, and licked me without warning — slow, then faster, until a moan tore from me, muffled by my own hand. The thrill of knowing the wives were still outside by the pool made it unbearable.
When he pulled back, lips wet, his eyes burned into mine. He stripped calmly, strong and hard, and flipped me onto all fours. He slid inside me deep, making me arch with a raw cry. The bed creaked, his thrusts brutal, his hand twisted in my hair forcing me to look at him.
I turned my head, catching my friend’s eyes. Her body bounced with every thrust, her moans spilling into the room. That shared look said it all: “look at us — it’s really happening.”
The room filled with our voices, the slap of skin, the rustle of sheets. Sweat, suntan lotion, sex — the air was thick with it.
At one point they switched. The one behind me pulled out with a growl, and suddenly I had his friend in front of me, still slick from my friend. He grabbed my jaw, pushed into my mouth. I gagged, moaned, tears springing to my eyes.
Hands gripped my hips — the other German, driving into me hard from behind. I was trapped between them, fucked raw, gasping, choking, trembling. The bed rattled, the walls shook, and my friend laughed breathlessly even as she was lifted and taken against the wall, her cries echoing.
They spun us around, pushed us down, dragged us up again. Against the bed, against the window, on the floor. My reflection in the glass showed my messy hair, sweat dripping down my back, eyes closed in wild pleasure.
At one point, I saw my friend on her knees, lips stretched around one of them, her hand between her thighs, moaning as he used her mouth. The sight drove me insane.
It was frenzy, a storm of heat and bodies. Every thrust, every gasp, carried the thrill of being discovered. And outside, by the pool, their wives still laughed under the sun, oblivious.
When it finally ended, the sheets were ruined, bikinis forgotten on the floor. My friend and I caught each other’s eyes — sweaty, messy, complicit. A secret burned into us forever.