Hosting the Pool Party – PART 4
…and then…
We’re still catching our breath when you look over at the pool and murmur, “Let’s go join them.” Your voice is wrecked but hungry, that post-come haze making everything sound like a dare. I nod, already reaching for the fresh margaritas someone’s mixing in the kitchen, Patrón hitting hard, lime biting sharp, salt rim glittering like it knows what’s coming. Mr B peels off toward the lawn instead, muttering something about needing a minute to recover. He flops onto a bean bag, cock still half-hard, eyes already tracking the other bodies writhing out there, couples swapping, someone on all fours getting railed slow and deep while another girl rides a guy’s face like she’s trying to drown him.
We grab the drinks, cold glass sweating in our hands, and head to the pool. The water’s warm, almost body temperature, and the second we slip in it starts washing away the layers of cum and sweat clinging to your skin. Thick white streaks swirl off your thighs, dissolve into cloudy tendrils that drift away. We sink down to our necks, arms around each other, bodies pressed close. I kiss you slow and deep, tongue lazy, tasting salt and tequila and the faint leftover musk of everything we’ve done. Your legs wrap around my waist under the water, holding me tight like you’re afraid the current might pull us apart.
Across the pool the scene has shifted. The group on the noodles has consolidated, one girl now, three guys. She’s bent over the edge of a noodle raft, ass up, getting taken from behind in steady rotation. They swap without a word, one pulls out, the next slides right in, no pause, just smooth handoffs. Her moans carry over the water, low and broken, every fresh thrust pushing a little gasp out of her. We watch, drinks forgotten on the pool ledge, your head resting on my shoulder, breath warm against my neck.
Then the other girl, the one who was riding faces earlier, spots us staring. She smiles slow, wicked, and repositions herself. Slides onto her back on the wide steps leading into the shallow end so her head’s just above water, legs spread wide on the submerged tiles. Up close we can see everything, her pussy lips red, swollen, puffy from the pounding, glistening with water and whatever else is leaking out of her. She’s still breathing hard, chest rising and falling, nipples tight little peaks.
We drift closer without really deciding to. I sit on the second step so the water laps at my chest. You turn, back to me, ass settling between my thighs. The three guys notice immediately. One of them, the tallest, the one who was just inside her, locks eyes with me. I give him a small nod, a half-smile. He returns it, pushes off the noodle, and swims over.
He starts gentle. Hand sliding up your back, slow strokes from shoulder to waist, then down again. The other two follow, flanking you. Their hands roam, light at first, then firmer, reaching around to cup your breasts, fingers finding your nipples and squeezing, pulling just hard enough to make you squirm against me. You let out this soft, surprised sound, arching into their touch.
The guy behind you keeps stroking your back, then shifts closer. His cock, already hard again, drifts over your folds under the water, sliding up and down your lips, getting slicker with every pass. You can feel him thickening, lengthening, the head catching on your entrance every few strokes. Then, with a small adjustment of his hips, the tip nudges inside. Your lips part around him, spreading slow as he sinks in deep. You’re still so wet from before, so full of cum, that he glides right in to the root with almost no resistance. A low moan slips out of you.
He starts thrusting, rhythmic, gentle, long slides all the way in and out. The water makes everything quieter, softer, but you can still hear the wet sounds, feel every inch dragging against your walls. The two guys at your sides pull harder on your nipples now, rolling them, tugging, while their other hands stroke your back, your sides, keeping you steady.
He slips out. Another guy takes his place seamlessly. I’m kissing you the whole time, arm wrapped around your waist, looking straight into your eyes while he rubs his tip over your lips, your clit, teasing until you whimper into my mouth. Then he enters, slow, careful, pushing deeper and deeper, stretching you around his shaft. You’re still dripping with loads from earlier, he feels it, groans low when he bottoms out.
His pace picks up, harder, faster, driving deep inside you. Your lips wrap tight around him, clinging with every pull-out. Your moans get louder, spilling into my mouth. One of the guys drops his hand between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast circles. The other keeps working your nipple, pinching harder. You kiss me deeper, more desperate, tongue frantic.
He drives harder, deeper, faster. You start to quiver, muscles tensing, thighs shaking under the water. You can feel him swelling inside you, getting impossibly harder, thrusts turning erratic as he chases it. Your orgasm builds fast, coiling tight, then snapping. It rips through you, body shaking hard, pussy clamping down around him in fierce pulses. You cry out against my lips, holding me so tight your nails dig into my shoulders.
That tips him. He buries himself deep and explodes, hot jets flooding you, mixing with everything already there, filling you up until it starts leaking out around his cock even while he’s still inside. He slows, rocking gently through the aftershocks, then finally slips free. A warm rush follows, cloudy tendrils swirling away in the water.
You curl into me immediately, shaking, arms locked around my neck, face buried in my shoulder. We stay like that, kissing soft now, holding each other while your body trembles through the comedown. The three guys drift back a little, giving space, low chuckles and satisfied sighs mixing with the pool sounds.
You pull back just enough to look at me, eyes wide, voice barely a whisper.
“What the hell just happened?”
I laugh quietly, kiss your forehead. “You happened.”
The sun’s sinking lower, shadows stretching long across the lawn. Mr B’s still out there, watching the bean-bag chaos with a lazy grin. Music drifts from the house, laughter, moans, the clink of fresh glasses.
You nestle closer, lips brushing my ear.
“Water… another margarita… or do we see what else is waiting on the lawn?”
I smile against your mouth.
Party’s just warming up.
😈
