In The Grass

String bikinis were designed for fucking by the pool. Whoever was smart enough to come up with the design had to have had this ulterior motive in mind. What other reason could there be to create something so barely there?

Not all string bikinis tie on the sides, but they really should. Because untying them is oh-so-much-fun.

Wicked Weasel. Teeny, see-through, string bikinis.

It was around 2 in the afternoon and D came walking down the steps into the courtyard wearing his swim trunks and carrying my bikini. I was as I always am when lying in the sun. He put the bikini in my naked lap. I smiled a smirky little grin at him.

"Watching you fuck yourself out here earlier was too much. It gave me bad ideas." I'd been idly fingering my clit while reading. It had felt good, but really never progressed to much of anything.

I stood and slipped the bottoms over my hips, then bent over to settle my breasts into the halter. D was right behind me to tie the back.

"Sit down," he said. We could hear the neighbors in the courtyard next door. Quiet. So hard. Back into the lounge chair I went.

"Close your eyes." I complied. We both had on the same suits we'd worn to fuck in the ocean.

He ran his fingers over my face, slowly over my eyes, cheeks, to my lips. Down my throat. Over my chest, down my breastbone to my belly button. Further down he slipped his fingertips into the edge of my bottoms. Into the cleft of my pussy.

He pulled the crotch aside to find better access. As he did, I untied the strings on the left side. His fingers slid into me. My eyes were still closed. I heard him open his trunks, and then his cock slid into my mouth. I sucked him while his talented fingers dove again and again into my cunt. I gushed on his hand, my juices slipping down my ass, soaking the bikini bottoms stuck between me and the chair.

D pulled me up and I stumbled forward to the grass. It was wet and a little muddy from thunderstorms the night before. He laid a beach towel down and brought me to my hands and knees. The bikini bottoms barely clung to my right hip, the strings from the other side grazing my thigh. Behind me now, with his hands on my waist he sank his cock into me, and it was all I could do to keep quiet. I could hear the toddler next door babbling.

Slow. Fast. Hard. Languid. Our fuck was all of those things. Somewhere along the way D pulled my top down and cupped my breasts, sometimes squeezing, sometimes rolling my nipples between his fingers. I tried to be quiet, but occasionally sounds escaped me. I tried to cover my own mouth, to bite down on my own fingers as a gag. I came. Once, twice, more. It all ran together as we fucked in the grass with the sun shining down on us.

We shifted positions so I could suck his cock for a while. D lay back and I nestled between his knees, practically in child's pose. Instead of bobbing my head over his cock, I rocked back and forth from my hips, taking long, deep passes. He couldn't keep quiet either, and his whimpery moans encouraged me to work a little harder. My hand covered the base of his cock, tugging him just right as I rocked back and forth. My lips met my fingers on every downstroke.

"Sit on me baby." He sat up and pulled me over his cock, sliding down onto him until I was sitting on his lap, riding him with my arms wrapped around his back. Did I come again? Could the neighbors hear me? Now I have no idea. Then it was all a beautiful sun-drenched haze. We finished fucking hard and fast, D on top of me with his fingers swirling over my clit.

He finished a few minutes later, standing over me and jacking off until I swallowed him down. Before his knees could break I gently pulled him down to sit, my mouth full of his cock and his come. Safely on the ground, D gave himself over to the full-body shivers of what seemed like an extended orgasmic state. I kept him in my mouth until his cock stopped pulsing, never slowing or easing back.

We sprawled over the beach towel, bathing suit parts hanging from various limbs. The gentle, barely there breeze wafted over us as our breathing slowed and came back to normal.

String bikinis were made for fucking in the grass.

Republished with permission from Always Each Other. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.