The Bikini Diaries (24 page)

side and placed her hands on the bars that connected to its roof. "Hold on," he said. And without preamble, he planted his hands on her hips and plunged his cock inside her.

"Ohhh!" she moaned at the deep impact.

God, she hadn't even known he'd unzipped his pants yet!

But apparently he'd managed it one-handed on the way across the green. Now, this

quickly, he was filling her with his tremendous erection, so big and hard that when she

closed her eyes she saw a kaleidoscope of colors dancing in her head.

He rammed into her in unforgiving strokes, and now she couldn't
help
crying out, regardless of anyone hearing. "Unh! Unh!" Each rough stroke battered her whole body in a most exquisite way Her tits bounced and her flesh quivered. She arched her ass toward

him, thinking,
Yes, oh yes.
This was more than she could have hoped for a nasty golf excursion. It had been difficult to get him here, but now he seemed committed to fucking her like crazy.

Soon enough, he resumed one of their favorite little games, smacking her ass as he

pounded into her tender flesh. Oh God, she loved it—it took the most pleasurable

sensations of sex and... somehow added to them.

"Oh yes, spank me," she said. "I've been a very naughty girl today."

"Hell yeah, you have," he growled, and brought his palm down still harder on her ass.

It went on until Wendy could no longer think straight, until her legs nearly collapsed

beneath her—until finally Brandon rasped, "God,
now,"
and drove into her with four brutal strokes that made her feel positively impaled.

When it was over, his arms closed around her bare waist and she could hear nothing but

the sound of their heavy breathing.

Finally, she turned in his arms, amazed at how comfortable she'd become with nudity.

"Did you like that?" she whispered up to him with a hopeful smile.

He nodded and gave her his wicked Brandon grin. "I can't wait to see what you've got planned for holes eight and nine."

Later that afternoon, after changing back into her more practical shorts—
with
panties—

Wendy rented a bike, deciding that would be a good way to check out some of the resort's other sport facilities. It was even hotter than this morning, but she was diligent about her work—usually much more diligent than she'd been on this trip so far, given certain

distractions—and she considered herself tough enough to stand up to a little heat. So she wore sunscreen, drank lots of water, and stopped from time to time to pull her journal

from her purse to make notes.

Tennis courts are pristine, but basketball courts look a little run-down. Some landscaping
around the court would make it more appealing, from both inside and out.

The mini-golf course looks fun and unique—but some greens are littered with leaves and
other debris. Must keep clean! At $10 a pop, people don't want to have to clear leaves off
the green before they can putt.

Of course, it was hard to explore the mini-golf greens without being reminded that just a few hours ago, she'd been mostly naked on a real golf green. Now, back in her more

practical work mode, it seemed unbelievable, like something she might have dreamed,

one of her naughty nighttime fantasies.

After her last official stop, she did some thinking and made another work note in her

journal.

What if we included some freebies with a three-night stay or longer? Free bike rentals, a
free hour of tennis.

She knew it was too hot to be playing tennis or basketball right now, but she still couldn't help thinking the facilities appeared underused.

If someone has a chance to try something for free, they might enjoy it and be willing to
pay. for it the next day. They might tell their friends that such perks make this a great
place to stay, worth the upscale price.

And if other patrons see the facilities being used, it will naturally spur them to consider a
round of tennis or shuffle-board, too.

There are a million places for people to go on vacation, and this one is fairly unique, but
we have to give people perks. too
—
extra incentives to choose Emerald Shores.

It was only as she read back over the note that she realized she'd started saying "we," as if she, or Walter, had already invested in the resort.

Which meant she must be planning to recommend that Walter invest.

The truth was, despite the flaws she kept finding, she did consider the resort a self-

contained paradise. Brandon had once called it Disney World at the beach and she

thought the description apt. She couldn't think of any reason
not
to give Emerald Shores her endorsement.

And
that
meant... Well, it meant Brandon would now become a fixture in her life. A
distant
fixture, but a fixture just the same.

All the more reason to persist in living out her sex fantasies with him and
nothing more.

After all, she couldn't take back the riotous sex they'd had. But she could make sure that was
all
they shared, which would make leaving in a couple of days easier. If they had occasion to deal with each other on work in the future, it would make that easier, too.

As she rode along the winding, well-manicured bike path, feeling stuck somewhere

between "normal her" and "wild her," she couldn't believe what a difference a few days had made. A few days ago, it had taken all her courage to buy a sexy bikini. Now she was taking her clothes off on a golf course like she'd been doing it her whole life.

Familiar questions ran through her mind.
At what point do you become the person you're
pretending to be? When is it real? Where is the line between the old you and the you
you've become?

The lines between good girl and bad girl had grown more and more blurred because she

felt so nasty bad with Brandon, like she could be an utter slut if that was what moved her, and yet when it was done, she was still
her.
She was still a person who enjoyed crunching numbers and going to her nieces' ballet recitals and watching gooey chick flicks.

How was it even conceivable that the same person had begged to have one man's cock in

her cunt and another in her mouth at the same time? She shook her head at the sheer

inanity of it.

And for the first time it occurred to her, maybe White Bikini Babe was the same way.

Maybe she could fuck indiscriminately and at the same time enjoy children and work

hard at her job.

Maybe the only difference between her and Wendy was that White Bikini Babe was so

comfortable with herself that she didn't even
think
about all this stuff, didn't bother to analyze it—and that made Wendy decide maybe she should quit analyzing it, too... and

just live.

She wore more yellow lingerie—tonight's selection had come from her first Emerald

Shores shopping trip, at the Beach Bazaar, and consisted of a sexy yellow demi-bra and

matching thong with scalloped edging and lacy trim. It was delicate and pretty and

possibly too flimsy to qualify as real underwear—but given that she knew she'd

eventually end up having sex with Brandon tonight, that hardly mattered.

Over it, she dressed simply: dark jeans and an embroidered, form fitting tank. She'd

chosen the clothes with Pete's date in mind—she wanted to look stylish, but not overtly

sexy, just in case the guys were wrong about the girl's reaction to her presence. Especially since she also had no idea if Pete would tell the girl what had happened last night. He

probably wouldn't, but they'd said she was a party girl and that she and Pete were totally casual, so who knew? All in all, she felt uneasy, like she was entering a situation with a lot of unknowns, so she didn't want to be
too
anything: too sexy or too threatening—too boring or too dowdy.

Mostly she just hoped she was over worrying it. And since she'd told herself earlier that she should quit analyzing everything, she tried to stop. She tried to think about afterward, when she would be alone with Brandon. When she counted it up, she realized it would be

their fourth amazing night together.

When Brandon picked her up, this time it wasn't in a golf cart but a shiny black

Mercedes-Benz convertible that nearly made her heart stop when she saw it. She still

wasn't used to quite how rich her lover was.

The breeze felt good as they drove, yet as they turned out onto the crowded, busy

highway that ran parallel to the ocean, she realized this was the first time she'd left the Emerald Shores property since arriving—and it felt strange to suddenly see things she'd

temporarily forgotten existed: quickie marts, fest food, billboards. It somehow made her time with Brandon seem all the more
real
—and
shocking.
This wasn't just some incredible and really
long
dream about paradise—they were in the real world together, now navigating the traffic to Pete's house in nearby beach town Destin.

The truth was, the return to real life—gas stations, strip malls, red lights—was downright jarring.
But you'd better get used to reality, babe, because it's coming.
She was going home the day after tomorrow. Which she and Brandon had not discussed, but surely he

knew since they had another business meeting scheduled to wrap up their talks on the

morning of her departure. She saw no
point
in discussing it, either. Because this was Jim,
sex,
and it was easy—and she intended to keep it that way.

Despite her internal warning about getting ready for real life again, she felt her whole body relax when Brandon turned left at a light—into the most pristine seaside community

she'd ever seen. The streets were paved with red bricks in a zigzag design, and on either side set perfect little two-story homes painted shell pink, sunshine yellow, and sea green.

White picket fences framed each small, well-tended yard, each blooming with bright

flowers and sporting small palm trees.

"Did I just die and go to subdivision heaven?" she asked.

Brandon slanted, a smile in her direction. "I'm sure that's exactly what the developers had in mind."

"I bet these houses cost a mint."

"I told you—Pete's place is a mini-mansion. These aren't huge homes, but they have

every amenity you could want, right down to the marble floors and beveled glass doors."

Then he pointed ahead down the long street. "And the beach is right there, close enough to walk." ,

Of course, by the time they parked in Pete's driveway before a peach-colored house with

gables and lots of white trim, she was nervous again. About the whole thing. It was one

thing to have a three way with your lover's friend; it was another to have dinner with him and his date the next night like everything was perfectly normal.

But stop this,
she scolded herself as they walked to the door.
Be White Bikini Babe. Quit
the damn worrying and analyzing. Get back to the fantasy.
Maybe that brisk drive back through the real world had
shaken
her from the fantasy. Or maybe it was the natural result of spending so much time with her fantasy
man.
How long could you live the fantasy before it ceased Reeling like a fantasy?

When Pete opened the door, his smile held a hint of flirtation, but no more than usual. He said, "Hey, bud—come on in," to Brandon, then placed his hand warmly at Wendy's waist to give her a kiss on the cheek. Despite herself, her pussy surged with moisture. But maybe that was good—if her cunt tingled, maybe it meant she was getting over her

jitters.

Wendy noticed immediately that neither guy acted remotely weird toward the other over

what had happened last night—she supposed guys could do that. Or maybe it was just

part of this whole casual-sex lifestyle that she'd never been a part of before.

"I just started the grill," Pete said, "and Stacy's outback. We're drinking chardonnay, but I've got about anything you want"

Both assured Pete that chardonnay was fine, and he ushered them through the house

toward the French doors in back—as Wendy caught glimpses of the home's interior

which struck her as fresh and bright and surprisingly tidy for a "beach bum."

The double doors opened onto a vast patio sporting a slat-roofed tiki-hut bar, a kidney-

shaped pool, and a hot tub, all circled by a tall white privacy fence. Low music vied with the sizzle of the elaborate grill, and a salty sea breeze wafted through the air. Dusk was falling, but tiki torches lined the perimeter of the pool, their glow making the area feel somehow primitive but luxurious.

Note to self: Add suggestion of tiki torches in key resort areas.
Her evenings with Brandon were the only time she didn't keep her journal with her, so she'd have to write

that down later.

"Hey, Stace, what's up?" Brandon asked, drawing Wendy's attention to the dark-haired beauty exiting the shadows of the tiki hut to greet them.

And as the shapely girl gave Brandon a hug, Wendy realized that this wasn't just any

girl—this was the girl she'd met at the Beach Bazaar! They recognized each other at the

same time, but Wendy knew she was the more shocked of the two.

"Wait a minute," Stacy said to her, pulling out of Brandon's embrace. "You bought some great stuff from me a few days ago, didn't you?" She plastered on a pretty smile,

reminding Wendy of how sexy she'd thought Stacy was. And possibly flirtatious?

"That's me," was all Wendy managed to say.

"Let me see if I remember. A sexy tangerine dress, some naughty lingerie, and that hot bikini that looked so killer on you."