Bored?

Another afternoon by the pool with Melinda stretched between us, empty and lazy. She lay on her stomach, her ass rounded against the sun-warmed chair, while I watched the slow rise of her back with each breath. Words came easy at first. We joked. We drifted. Then silence settled like heat. I got up without speaking. Poured more lotion into my palm and knelt behind her. My hands started at her calves, slow and slick, then climbed. I worked the oil up her thighs until my thumbs pressed the lower swell of her cheeks. She didn’t stop me. When I leaned closer and dragged my tongue across the small of her back, she shivered but stayed still. Another pass, lower this time, and I heard the change in her breathing. I parted her with both hands. The skin there was hotter than the rest of her. I licked once, flat and slow, and her hips twitched. The next time I used the tip, circling, pressing in until her hole softened and gave. She pushed back against my mouth. I gripped harder and opened her wider, tasting salt and sunscreen and something that was just her. Her thighs trembled. She made no sound except the uneven rush of air leaving her nose. I stayed there until she was slick with spit, until every muscle had gone loose and her hands curled tight around the edge of the chair. Then I stood, undid my trunks, and fed my cock between those same cheeks. The first push met little resistance. Heat swallowed me. Melinda’s breath caught. I held still, buried to the root, feeling every pulse around me. Outside the pool fence, traffic moved. Inside, everything narrowed to the way she squeezed when I started to move.