It was four or five times a week minimum. And I mean minimum. I was well-fucked. I guess several other women were too. But I don't care now, all I care about is the unused part of me that I just love to be used so regularly. Oh, and vibrators and dildos just don't do it. They're okay but they don't moan when I suck them. So, here I am, an attractive (five-five, one hundred twelve pounds, 36-C cup, now blond ((post-divorce), who naked still looks pretty damned good) woman, thirty-two years old and my boobs are just as firm as when I was fourteen. I'm also just as horny as I was at fourteen. Maybe even more. If that's possible. As I said, I was laying out by the pool, in the shade (my dermatologist would be proud), in the middle of the day quietly thinking over the past twelve months when I faintly heard a chair or chaise lounge move. I looked up and there was a young man about twenty feet away looking at me and smiling. I smiled back rather wondering at his interest when I looked down. I hung out on the beach blanket talking with the girls around us and poking Ariel to turn over from time to time so she didn’t burn. My goggles were reminding me by showing where she was getting too much sun so I could also have her spin around a bit. The easiest way to do that turned out to be her putting her feet or head on my legs. It was almost two hours later that my phone beeped that Molly and the shy girl were heading up our room. She told me to give them a little while. It seems the girl was interested in her as much as she was me. Molly made it very clear she told the shy girl that she wasn’t interested in returning the favor. The girl didn’t seem to mind.“So are you and the two girls more than friends? You seem really comfortable with each other. You didn’t tent out your shorts when Ariel was stripping in front of you,” one of the girls said who hadn’t said much until now.You really don’t need to wear a light blue suit that gets transparent when it gets wet. I can see right.
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