Wet and Willing: A Pool Floaty Kink You Can’t Unsee

I don’t know what came over us. Maybe it was the sun, or the tequila, or the way her bikini had “accidentally” disappeared the second we got in the pool.

It started with the flamingo floaty. I leaned over it, pretending to adjust the strap, but she slid up behind me and pressed her tits against my back like it was part of the game. Her hands wandered. Her lips met my shoulder. I giggled—loud enough for him to hear.

He was poolside, shirt off, cock in hand, already hard and watching like a good boy.

We drifted toward the unicorn floaty next, its rubber horn between us like a challenge. She climbed on first, straddling it, gliding slowly back and forth. I climbed behind her, letting my fingers explore under the water. Her moans echoed off the tile.

I kissed her neck. Bit her shoulder. She tasted like pool water and sin.

We traded floaties like lovers trade secrets. I laid across the donut one, legs spread, letting her tongue trace lazy circles on my thighs while I clutched the inflatable sides and arched my back. My laugh turned to a moan the moment she sucked on me, slow and deep, sending ripples across the pool.

He stroked harder.

She pulled away just to look at him. “Don’t cum yet,” she said, playful and cruel. “You haven’t even seen the finale.”

She pulled me onto the flamingo again—this time facing her. Our breasts slid together, wet and slick. Her tongue danced against mine while her fingers disappeared inside me, thrusting, teasing, curling in just the right spot. I lost track of everything except her touch and his breathing from the edge of the pool.

When I came, it was loud. Messy. Unfiltered. She didn’t stop. She wanted him to see how good she could make me feel.

And when I collapsed onto her chest, still twitching, she smiled at him and said, “Now you can finish.”