I didn’t hesitate, but seemed to kiss him harder. I was terrified of what was going on, but only because I never knew any of this could ever happen, not to me. This sort of thing happened to ‘friends of friends’ or something cliché like that, but I was actually happy to continue.
I let his warm hand pull it down slightly, as his lips moved away from mine, transferring to my neck, as he kissed his way downwards, eventually trailing down to everywhere his hand had been. I released a small breath as he lingered for a few seconds, then began to move back upwards, bringing his fingertips up slowly replacing the strap over my shoulder, and placing his lips back on mine, kissing me rougher than before, as my hands moved to around his neck.
His own hands moved back down my body, resting at my hips, just enjoying the pleasure of my mouth on his. I felt his fingertips tracing along the hem of my bikini bottoms, occasionally brushing my skin, and then they slipped underneath. First, at the side with one hand, the other behind my back, clutching me tightly towards him, then it started creeping it’s way around my waist towards my front. Hand followed fingers as they moved downwards until the hem slid onto his wrist.
My grip tightened around his neck, as they moved beneath me, and I pressed my lips harder against his so that they stopped moving. He paused, and pulled his head backwards staring into my eyes,
“Does it hurt?” he asked. His accent alone was enough to make me want him more, it was incredibly enticing. I shook my head,
“No, no,” I exhaled, and previous activities resumed. My breathing became heavier and more rapid, whilst he pulled his lips to trail kisses along my jaw-line and down my neck. Eventually, his hand retreated, moving to his own shorts. Guiding me by my wrists, then running them gently down his sides, directing me to pull the shorts away from their place.
He then pushed my wrist round the front of his waist and towards the middle. Obliging, I reached down. He exhaled heavily, bringing his hands up my arms. The kisses he was placing on my neck seemed to compel me to quicken my pace, which appeared to have a continuous chain reaction, until his hands, which had reached my shoulders, nudged downwards. I shook it off first time as a response to what I was doing. Which it was, but he also meant what he was doing. His persistence showed that, as the nudges became stronger. “Baby,” he breathed. I swear that was it. I felt weak at the knees, and I reached up to kiss him, which he obliged to, but pushed down again. This time I followed the direction of the force.
He released a stronger breath, the tiniest hint of a moan as I was knelt on one knee in front of him, his hands resting on my hair, stroking it. After what seemed like less than two minutes, I was pulled back up into a passionate kiss. He let go of me, and ushered me into the far shower cubicle. This time I foresaw what was most definitely going to occur next. I was terrified, not sure whether I wanted this to carry on or not, but I followed his lead. I hadn’t noticed until that moment how much I was shaking, thankfully he didn’t appear to notice, I probably wasn’t appearing that bad, but inside I felt like an earthquake.
I couldn’t back out of this now. Deep down, I wanted him. I wanted him bad. This was just all a fantasy though, surely. This never happened in real life, least of all to me; shy, average looking girl, who never got any male attention worth mentioning. But it was happening, and it was progressing fast. While my mind was going over this, he had been holding me close, smothering my lips with heavy kisses. My conscious battle of fantasy vs. reality ceased when his hands on my hips turned me to face the wall.
My bikini bottoms slid down to my ankles before he pressed himself closer to me. Then he was there. My fingers pressed harder against the white tiles, joints becoming white. Automatically, my eyes closed, and my mouth fell open. My breathing, was tinged with a small moan with every movement, that each heavy breath fell into the rhythm of. Hands slid up from my hips, up to my bust, and back down. Not realising my volume, I heard a soft hushing noise from him, followed by a hypocritically loud groan, but I brought my lips together, still unable to entrap the noises, just muffling them. I felt his grip tighten, as he came closer to me with more force, then withdrew, turning away from me.
When he was done, I had already adjusted my bikini and made myself presentable. He leaned down immediately to kiss me, before pulling up his own shorts. Now I was shaking more. The majority of this was now due to the pleasure. “Okay,” he whispered, kissing me again, then pulling back, bringing his finger to his lips. I nodded in understanding. He walked up to the door treading carefully, avoiding the clutter on the floor. Slowly turning the handle, he opened the door and looked out; then motioned for me to hurry out. I did, and walked straight ahead without turning back.
I went and stood straight in the pool where the slides lead in to. The noise of the screaming children couldn’t even distract me from my thoughts. I felt dirty, partly disgusted with myself. Unfortunately for my moral conscience, the disgust was due to the fact I felt good about this. What?! A shudder quaked my body, coming thicker than my shaking, though it made me more aware that it was still present in my limbs.
I decided a swim would help it off my mind. That didn’t work, so I swam back to the beds, reaching straight for my iPod, and searching for an angry band that was sure to scream at me for what I’d done. Lost Prophets. Perfect. Not exactly a ‘new’ band, but they would be good for the job. I felt I needed someone to scream at me.
As my memory found itself rewinding, I felt the ghost of his touch creeping along my skin, and the sensation of him behind me. I shuddered again, though it pleasured me to think of it again so that I could shudder harder. It took a lot of effort to push the stubborn thoughts away, the screaming from my earphones washing it out of my head.
I managed to fall asleep. It was short, and dreamless, but sleep nonetheless. I woke up discovering I was alone, when I looked ahead across the pools. The one time I could have been almost grateful to miss the moment I’d been dying to catch the past couple of days. I saw my mum walking along, and over the bridge, with him.
With that thought came another curse to myself for still not knowing his name. I’d had a pretty close encounter that gave me a decent opportunity to read his name tag for god’s sake. I then reassured myself there was no way I could have distracted myself to check, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have formed a word, just seen the letters.
He and mum were walking around the corner, towards where I was. He was carrying two hoops, both of which had balloons around the edge. It must’ve been time for that game to start soon, the game that I was dying to play, and now a feeling of nausea crept over me and sank deeply in my stomach. No way, obviously, was it towards him, physically or personally. More to the fact I was still getting my head around what happened, that it could of happened, and that it happened with him.
Childishly, as nothing else clever came to mind on how I could play cool when he came over, I pretended to fall back asleep. I was surprisingly convincing, no twitchy smiles or bursting into laughter. I heard conversation growing louder, and then stopped when the sounds were coming from right at my feet. My eyelids sensed a shadow blocking the sunlight, and I had to force myself not to peek. I felt a presence coming closer to my skin, and then suddenly fingers trailing up the soles of my feet. I jolted and took my earphones out , blinking fast. There he was, bent slightly, arm still lowered but away from my feet – good decision.
Mum was almost in stitches, while he kept a cheeky smile spread across his face, with a knowing look in his eyes that I knew weren’t seeing the little clothing that I had on, but were hinting at a recollection of the shower-cubicle incident.