First Summer: Weekend at Byron

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The shared Easter with Kate had been special, even setting aside the threesome we’d finally allowed ourselves.

As the June long weekend approached I felt the need both to get away somewhere with Greg and to catch up with Kate again.

Going to Uni every day together with Greg meant we certainly weren’t lacking in each other’s company. But our sex life was considerably inhibited compared to the summer we’d shared in his home town. Without the great outdoors as a place to unleash our passions, we were constrained by the limitations of doing it at my family’s house or Greg’s shared unit. At the very least it meant we had to curtail the noise we made and limited the variety. But it also limited the amount of sex we seemed to be able to get in.

During the holiday I’d worked out later we averaged well over than twice a day; not bad for beginners over a three month period I thought. Now we were struggling to make it four or five times a week, and that included what we came to call our ‘wicked Wednesdays’ where thanks to a bit of good programming of our Uni classes on our part and the rest of my family being at work, we finally got my family’s house to ourselves for most of the day.

The drop off in the sex certainly wasn’t due to any lesser desire on my or Greg’s part. If these things have a honeymoon period where you go at it hammer and tongs before dropping back to something more sustainable it wasn’t over yet. I wanted more. Much more than I was getting and much more uninhibited sex too. Plus I just wanted more of that feeling of being exposed to a naked Greg in broad daylight and exposing myself to him in return; and the intimacy that goes with that.

Now winter was coming on I even missed the opportunity to lie awake and just look at his naked body lying asleep beside me — something I knew he did too. Doonas might be warm, but they’re not transparent.

But because of a lack of somewhere private and opportunity I was missing all of this. I thought a weekend away might offer a break from that.

I wanted to include Kate because I knew she was missing us as much as we were missing her. I certainly pined for the intimate morning teas we had shared together; somewhere I could download all my innermost thoughts on someone I loved and trusted; which was strange given I’d never had that sort of friend in my life before meeting Kate. Since she’d broken up with Wayne it was obvious from her emails that she also was missing us — Greg no less than me. She had plenty of Uni friends to hang out with but it was obvious it just wasn’t the same

I’m a summer person; I much prefer to be warm than cold and I enjoy the beach and all the exposed flesh that goes with it. With just three days to get away and a restricted budget that goes with being a Uni student it had to be somewhere we could fly directly to from both cities on cheap flights.

From my city the choice was unlimited. But from Canberra where Kate was it was a different matter. In terms of purely holiday destinations it was Coolangatta airport or no-where. As somewhere to stay, that sort of left us with anywhere from Byron Bay in the South to the Gold Coast in the North as places accessible from the airport.

I did a bit of research and pushed for Byron for a number of reasons. First of all it seemed like more of an international backpacker destination, rather than the family holiday location more typified by the Gold Coast strip. So maybe more entertainment for our age group and better pickings for Kate; since I wanted to allow for the possibility she’d be looking for a bit of sexual entertainment too. Secondly, from what I could read, the large headland to the South protected the beach from the southerly winds and created a warmer micro-climate for this time of year. After all it would be winter up there too; just a warmer winter than we were getting.

With a bit of deft reorganisation of our Uni programme we managed to get most of Friday and Tuesday morning off, opening up the prospect of extending the holiday mood a bit. I found we could fly into Ballina, which was a shorter transfer and the flight got us there late morning, so booked us on that for the flight up, but leaving to go home from Coolangatta at about the same time as Kate’s flight early Tuesday. Kate was due to fly in mid-afternoon Friday.

We wanted more privacy than a straight backpackers offered so found ourselves a hotel/motel not too far from the beach at a reasonable price. Fortunately, being winter and therefore off season, there didn’t seem to be too much of a long weekend premium.

Winter is a relative term. At this time in Byron a nice winter’s day could get up to 25 degrees Celsius and the ocean water hadn’t yet started to cool too much, still being well over 20. Not bad really and that is the sort of day we flew in to.

After we checked in we had a choice. Sex or beach? It was of course tempting just to strip each other and go at it. But there were conflicting factors. The peak mecidiyeköy escort warmth of the day is relatively short and it was lunch time. By the time we’d had a good roll about and something to eat after, we might miss out on the chance for a swim before meeting up with Kate.

So instead we changed into swimmers and prepared for the beach. If you read my First Summer series, then you’ll know that for Greg and me part of that preparation includes creaming each other with sunscreen and that we do it in such a way that, to say we leave each other somewhat aroused is a massive understatement.

So it was this time. By the time I’d finished with Greg he had a rock hard boner that had burst out of the waist band of his speedos and was trying to stretch itself up towards his navel while I was left with a less visible but no less demanding swollen clit. I couldn’t help myself. I wrapped my hand around his shaft, pushed myself against him and my clit against his thigh and buried my tongue in his mouth. It felt good. It felt free again; maybe in a way it hadn’t since our summer holiday had finished.

I savoured the closeness of his body and the raw sexuality of the moment. It was tempting to change our plans. When we teased up each other this way it always was. But we didn’t. After a moment we managed to peel ourselves physically apart and continued down to the beach, stopping for a quick bite along the way.

For a few hours we swam and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on our bodies; missing the ability to sneak into the bushes and screw each other silly that we had on the more private beaches of Greg’s home town but still frolicking in the water as much as the laws of public decency would allow. Just having him there beside me nearly naked was fun enough, the shape of his cock clearly visible under his swimmers, my wet bikini moulding itself around my breasts and the enlarged nipples sitting atop them and camel-toeing deeply into my crutch: a sort of sexual energy transmitting freely between our bodies promising things to come and keeping us both at a constant low level of arousal.

As the afternoon wore on the time of the arrival of Kate’s bus approached and we put on our beach cover-ups to go and meet her.

As she got off the bus it was immediately apparent that Kate was still Kate. Dressed in a bright yellow pair of hot pants that barely covered what they needed to cover and were so tight they might as well have been spray painted on, topped with a deeply plunging close fitting tee shirt which struggled to contain her breasts, you could sense the eyes of every male within a 200 metre radius immediately focus in on her.

She beamed a gorgeous smile as she ran towards us squealing in delight, wrapping me in her arms, pressing her full body against mine and kissing me on the cheek before doing the same to Greg, except this time planting her kiss on his lips.

As we walked up to the motel with her, every male who passed could be seen to track her with his eyes, just about twisting their neck off their head as they turned to keep looking as they went past. I even saw one walk into a lamp post and another trip over a seat. Kate might have looked nonchalant about the attention she was attracting, but I knew she was just as much checking out the talent in return. She smiled at one or two who took her fancy, but there was a natural tendency for males to dissolve into jelly when Kate did that to them and neither of them was quick enough to take up on the opportunity the smile implicitly offered. Since she’d broken up with Wayne she gone back to finding her sexual satisfaction in the way she knew best; even if at the same time she was looking for a better quality replacement.

Our room was on the corner of the building, down the end of the corridor and Kate’s was next door. While she checked in and unpacked Greg and I retired to our room to have a post swim shower and get changed for the evening.

One of the things I’d most missed about the last few months was just the chance to check out Greg while he was naked, so I offered him first shower while, after stripping back down to my bikini, I found excuses to loiter in the bathroom. At first I just unpacked our bathroom stuff from our bag, but when that quickly ran out, I stood holding the glass door of the shower screen open finding something to talk to him about as he went about his shower. I actually don’t recall what the conversation was about. It had to be a sensible enough conversation that it gave me an excuse to be there, but not something so significant as to stop him from going through the motions of showering; especially those where he turned to face the flow of water and gave me a chance to check out his naked butt — a favourite perspective of mine since he had such a great one.

Poor Greg. He was happy to admit he found me cock burstingly sexy and loved having as much sex with me as he could get but was always concerned to make sure nişantaşı escort I didn’t think it was just all about sex. So at times like this he tended to take me at face value and just think I wanted to talk when in actual fact my crutch was throbbing with desire and I was standing there waiting to be taken. Once when he turned away I repositioned the top triangles so the nipples were barely covered by them, trying to tease him with them.

I’ll somehow have to improve on my come fuck me look because for a while he stayed flaccid going about washing himself down as we chatted. Then maybe my conversation faltered and my intention became more transparent. Suddenly he started to grow. When he saw me transfixed on that it positively exploded; rising to its full hardness and height in an instant.

He hooked his finger under the tie of my bikini top between my breasts and pulled me into him under the shower and kissed me. Turning me against the wall he quickly undid every tie of the bikini and let the parts be washed off my body by the flow of the water. A moment later and his cock was throbbing against my clit between my legs; not indicating a lack of foreplay on his part since I’d put it there — more the fact I’d gone through my own arousal process while I’d been watching him.

In an act of lovemaking that let us get back to the passionate noisy sex of our holiday he brought me to a screaming climax by rubbing his shaft against my clit before penetrating me and just about lifting me off the ground with the enthusiasm of his thrusting as he found his own orgasm. It was a fantastic start to the holiday weekend.

Then he helped me finish my own shower, standing there washing my back and hair.

You tend to assume motels have fairly noise proof walls. Not so. As we finished getting dressed I could hear Kate chooking about her room; unpacking and getting dressed. So she’d heard everything. Yet somehow that didn’t matter. She knew what we were like.

We met up with Kate in the reception as we’d arranged, a wink from her confirming our activities had been well and truly overheard. Predictably she was dressed to kill; a plunging neckline sheath mini dress, boobs thrust out with the hem of the push up bra just visible along the line of her cleavage. Mind you I wasn’t exactly demurely dressed myself and I suppose you could describe my own dress using the same words; even if my target was more to please Greg than attract general attention

Kate had been in charge of choosing our venue for the evening; firstly because she showed more imagination about it than Greg and me and secondly because, since I allowed she might be on the hunt, she had a bigger stake in the decision.

We started at the Byron Hotel on the beachfront, enjoying the view and the ambience of an outside seat, taking the chance to catch up with all the gossip that hadn’t been included in the email traffic between us.

We were regularly interrupted by hopeful males who had noted the disparity in the gender balance in our group and tried to round out the numbers; no doubt hoping Kate was the odd one out, but careful to not offend either way. I’m sure I was back to being the consolation prize. Kate always took control of these situations, sizing the guy up, working out whether she had any interest in him, engaging him in a slightly longer conversation if she felt a spark of attraction to see what he was like and then either politely declining any further offers of drink or attention or on the one occasion she thought he was worth a try, letting him know he could buy the table a drink and join us while we consumed it.

It was like a job interview; one he too failed and so was gently thanked for the drink and sent packing back to his mates.

I have to say I admired the confidence and grace with which she handled the situation. On the one hand she knew the value of what was on offer. On the other she knew how difficult a role the guy had to play and never put him down or treated him in a way that would have offended an average person; even if they might have been disappointed by the outcome. Only one overly persistent pest was given a firmer treatment. All the while she made us feel as though we were the only company she really cared about.

From there we moved on to the dinner location she’d picked.

As we walked in the door a sign flashed past my line of vision. Something about “defend the flag competitions”. My brain momentarily wondered what that might be before forgetting it as we walked in and I noticed the unusual layout. It seemed more like a theatre restaurant, the dining area being a series of tiered raised floors. It was all bustle and busy and we were quickly shown to the table Kate had booked; a four seater.

I quite deliberately, but in as subtle manner as I could, arranged our seating so it was obvious Kate was the single person; not so as to avoid any embarrassment on my part, rather so that Kate had the otele gelen escort best chance of finding company that suited her if that what she wanted. So Kate sat on one side of the table, Greg and myself on the other with me directly facing Kate. It also helped Greg not get too distracted by the view of her cleavage which even I found difficult not to stare at. Mind you facilitating his lack of distraction was intended for my benefit — he might have preferred to have to deal with it!

Here again we were constantly interrupted by random males now more certain of who the target was. Until dinner arrived Kate dealt with them in the same way; only another one scoring the prize of being permitted to buy the table a drink but also failing the subsequent interview.

We were half way through dinner and a pleasant conversation when some activity started in what I might have referred to as the theatre pit. There was a smallish inflatable pool set up and an announcer started asking for contestants.

At first I just tuned out being more interested in catching up with Kate.

But as things started to move forward in the pit, the activity became harder to ignore. Two girls came out dressed in a one piece swimming costume in national flag patterns — one Australian and one Kiwi. The costumes themselves were pretty brief; high cut legs, a plunging v neckline and equally low cut back. The front piece was held up by the slimmest of cross over straps which rejoined the sides of the costume near the hips. The sides of the front also plunged vertically down to the hips showing a lot of underboob at the side with everything coming together at a very narrow little seam on each hip.

Actually in shape they looked a lot like Kate’s sexy one piece, even if obviously very flimsily made.

Then the girls oiled themselves up and started to wrestle in the inflatable pool.

If I thought it was nothing more than some sort of oil wrestling match to entertain the guys I was quickly disabused as they fairly determinably tried to rip each other’s costumes off. So now at least the ‘defend the flag’ started to make some sense.

Kate nudged me across the table “hey kiddo, you’re an expert at strip wrestling, you should challenge” in obvious reference to the bikini hogtie wrestling match I’d lost against Merc.

I politely declined although only then noticed a laminated folded notice on the table indicating what it was all about. Apart from the obvious fact whoever stripped the costume off the other won, it also told me they were wearing g strings swimmer bottoms underneath to preserve some modesty and the wrestling was organised in weight divisions. Plus there was a mixed division where two girls took on a guy, although within certain weight restrictions. Unfortunately there didn’t seem to be a purely male division, although I could see that might bring a different sort of clientele.

Swimwear in your own national flag was provided, as was the g string and a wrap dress if you didn’t want to put on your good clothes afterwards; although showers were available.

By the time I’d finished reading the notice and looked up again, both girls had their breasts exposed; fairly predictably give the nature of their costume. They were sitting squat on their knees, each trying to work the bottoms off the other without leaving themselves vulnerable, but neither getting anywhere, given they had their legs apart.

Then the Kiwi did a surprise launch at the Aussie, lying her flat on the bottom of the oily pool and managing to pull her swimmers most of the way down her legs with one hand while holding onto her own swimmers with the other. With her legs now tangled the Aussie lost the initiative and as the Kiwi repositioned herself to finish the job was unable to keep challenging her modesty, leaving the Kiwi two hands to get them right off and throw them out of the pool; winning the game. It was all over in less than 10 minutes; although there was something about them made me think that rather than random volunteer customers they might have been ringers to get the whole thing started.

A few girls challenged the Kiwi, but she declined, leaving the field for a new pair; or in this case trio, since it was a mixed match. Italian girls against what I took to be a Danish guy.

Here the dynamics were interesting. It was strength against a greater number of hands. The girls were all over the guy, leaving him little chance and managed to win in short order.

They in turn were challenged by an English guy. He simply tried to use pure strength to rip the costumes off the girls even though they remained in the defensive squat position. Initially one had a front seam of her swimmers split from her nipple to her crutch where the colours joined, then both had the straps down the back torn from their mountings leaving their breasts exposed as the front piece flopped down and then finally one had the side seam ripped apart, leaving her only one leg in the swimmers and making it easy for him to side them off her leg.

All the while they’re were trying to fight back in the same manner, pulling his swimmers well away from his body and giving him a giant wedgie while trying to tear them, but not succeeding. It seemed the male swimmers had a stronger side seam than the female ones

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