Sunset Pose

The yacht cut through the Gulf Stream like a hot knife through butter, and all I could think about was the curve of Lena’s ass in those white linen shorts. The evening class had ended two hours ago, but she’d lingered by the dock, her mat bag slung over one shoulder, asking about hip openers with a smile that said she didn’t give a shit about hip openers.

“You sure this is okay?” she asked, stepping aboard. Her bare feet made soft sounds on the teak deck. “I’ve never been on a yacht before.”

“It’s my cousin’s,” I said, which was a lie. It was rented, and it had cost me a month of private lessons. “He won’t mind.”

The sun was bleeding orange into the horizon, and the water had gone glassy. I watched her walk to the bow, the way her shorts pulled tight with each step, the round, firm swell of her ass moving like it had its own rhythm. She was thirty-two, a lawyer who’d started yoga to de-stress, and she’d been giving me those eyes for three weeks now.

“This view is incredible,” she said, turning to face me. The wind caught her dark hair. “I could get used to this.”

“It gets better when the sun goes down.”

We dropped anchor in a quiet cove. The water was still warm, and I suggested a swim. She stripped off her shorts right there, no hesitation, and I got my first real look at her in a black bikini that barely covered anything. Her ass was a masterpiece — round, tan, with that slight bounce when she moved that made my cock twitch in my board shorts.

“You coming in or just staring?” she called from the water.

I dove in. The cold hit my skin, but not enough to cool me down. She swam close, treading water, droplets streaming down her collarbone.

“You know,” she said, “I always wondered what you looked like outside the studio.”

“Disappointed?”

She laughed, low and throaty. “Not even close.”

We climbed back aboard, and she grabbed the towel first. I watched her dry off, the way she bent over, the water beading on her thighs. She caught me looking and didn’t look away.

“I have a confession,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t come here for the sunset.”

She dropped the towel. Her hands found the back of my neck, and she pulled me into a kiss that tasted like salt and heat. Her tongue slid against mine, and I felt her thigh press against my hardening cock.

“Lena,” I breathed against her lips.

“Shut up and take me below deck.”

The cabin was small, dim, with a bed that barely fit two. She pushed me onto it, straddled me, and I got my hands on her ass. God, it was even better up close — full, warm, soft with just enough muscle underneath. I squeezed, and she let out this little gasp that went straight to my dick.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this,” she said, grinding against me. The friction of her bikini bottom against my shorts was maddening.

“Tell me.”

“Every class.” She reached down and undid my shorts, freed my cock. Her fingers wrapped around it, and I groaned. “Every time you bent over to correct my pose. I wanted you to fuck me right there on the mat.”

I flipped her onto her back. Her bikini came off in one pull, and I stared at her naked body — those round tits, the flat stomach, the dark patch of hair between her thighs. She spread her legs without being asked.

“Fuck me,” she said. “Don’t be gentle.”

I didn’t. I slid inside her in one stroke, and she cried out, her back arching, her nails digging into my shoulders. She was wet, so wet, and tight, and the sound of our bodies coming together filled the tiny cabin.

—Sí —siseó ella—. Justo así.

I pounded into her, her tits bouncing with each thrust. I grabbed her hips, pulled her ass up, changed the angle, and she moaned something incoherent. Her eyes rolled back.

“You like that?” I asked.

—Dios, sí. No pares.

I didn’t. I could feel her getting close, her walls clenching around me. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulled me deeper.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasped. “Don’t you dare pull out.”

I came with her, my body shuddering, spilling inside her as she convulsed around me. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing and the gentle rocking of the yacht.

She laughed, breathless. “That was not in the curriculum.”

“I’ll have to revise my lesson plan.”

We lay there, tangled in sheets, the cabin dark except for the last light filtering through the porthole. She traced lazy circles on my chest.

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” she asked.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

The morning came with coffee and the smell of salt. She was wearing my shirt, nothing else, and she sat on the deck with her legs crossed, sipping from a plastic cup. She caught me staring and smiled.

—¿Qué?

“Nothing.” I took a sip of my own coffee. “Just enjoying the view.”

She looked out at the water, the sun glittering off the waves. “You know, I think I’m gonna need a lot more private lessons.”

CATEGORIES: [Yacht, Ass, MILF, Rough Sex, Just the Two of Us]