Tequila Drops (Erotica)
Who knew that tequila, or “to-kill-ya” as a flight attendant called it on our flight to Cancun, could be so hot?
I knew there would be a lot of adventurous sex on a recent work trip to Mexico with Bret. I never could have guessed that we would play with tequila like we did our second day at the marble-lobbied Riviera Maya resort.
A morning spa treatment had left me all melt-y. The “water journey massage” started with a dry sauna, followed by a steam bath, an ice bath, another steam sauna with clay mask, an “experience shower” that alternated between sweltering hot and icy cold, and ended with a series of dips in hot tubs jetted in a thousand ways. My aqua-fantasy ended with a full massage. Body totally relaxed, I returned to the hotel room, stripped down, and collapsed on the enormous balcony lounge chair. The scent of bougainvillea permeated the air. At 90-degrees and counting, the heat was too much for covering of any kind. My body, already a little bikini brown, relished the mid-day sun and warm breeze.
Bret returned from his golf game shortly after I returned from the spa. Eighteen holes on the golf course, no doubt smoking cigars, usually left him sweaty and smelling like a man. I heard him head straight for the shower. He knew that I liked his soapy-clean, post-shower, body. When he came onto the balcony, only a fluffy white towel covered the parts that I love to caress.
“Oh, there you are. How was your massage?”
Startled to be caught naked on the balcony, I jumped a bit, my gaze fighting the full afternoon sun. Dropping the towel, Bret stepped closer. Little drops of water trickled down his thigh, reflecting rays of sunshine. Looking at his core ignited that area between my thighs. Seeing his strong form made my mouth start to water.
“Come sit. I’m gonna go get water.” I pulled myself off the large cushions, willing my legs to go inside. “Want some?”
“Some of you? Definitely.”
“No. Want some water, silly?!”
“It’s so fuckin’ hot out here. Yes.”
One side benefit of a club trip is a fully-stocked fridge. Wandering inside, I grabbed a few water bottles. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began thinking of Bret pouring cool water down the tan line connecting my hips. Perhaps I should bring three bottles. Or maybe four. I spied the Milagro tequila that Bret’s boss, Tom, had left for us. His boss wanted us to drink it, right? It would be rude to not take advantage of that generosity. He was the boss. Tucking the water under my arm, I grabbed two shot glasses, poured a few generous gulps of the liquid fire, and headed back to reconnoiter with Bret.
My mind raced seeing his tanned body soaking in the sun. The smooth brown lines of his legs contrasted with the bleached white chaise.
As he reached to grab a shot glass, I straddled his hips and pushed his hands away. My legs radiated with the sun above and heat from his core. I raised one shot glass to my lips, downing the Milagro in a single smooth sip. Bret raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth turned up in a little grin. No doubt he wondered what was coming next.
Using only body language, I invited him to exchange places with me. Sun permeating his skin, he slid his body out from beneath mine. Rays of heat graced my exposed tits like the magenta flowers covering the balcony. So very aroused, my shaved pussy responded when Bret landed his pelvis squarely on mine. Looking down, I watched his cock grow along the radiant skin of my belly.
Bret looked with anticipation as I raised the second shot to my lips. I let some of the tequila, already warmed by the sun, flow down the side of my lips. One arm wrapped around my chest, I raised the shot glass above the mounds of cleavage and tilted the glass slowly. A well of Milagro grew between my breasts. Tequila ran along my stomach, creating another well between my hip bones, filling my belly button.
Shifting slightly, Bret ran his tongue slowly along the tequila at the base of my breasts. The feel of his rough tongue on smooth skin set every ounce of me ablaze. Moving down my body, he slurped up the liqueur pooling on my stomach. His muscular shoulders shading my body, his cock rose over my mound. I could tell he was feeling more than the effects of the alcohol.
Suddenly those little drops of tequila morphed into water droplets from the morning’s hot sauna. Drip. Drip. Drip. The drips of cum that grace the tip of Bret’s cock when he is fully aroused. Drip. Drip. The drops that gather on the tip of my finger that I bring to my lips. Drip.
That’s when a supremely naughty idea entered my mind. He reached for the glass and I hesitated. Forcing my legs apart, I wiggled a few inches out from beneath Bret. Just enough to pour one long line of tequila down my already soaking-wet slit.
“I want tequila and your cum in my hot box,” I whispered.
The image of him above me, those strong shoulders cutting a line against the blue sky, heightened the anticipation. Bret grabbed the shot glass from my hand, pounded the last few drops, and simultaneously speared my most sensitive place. One thrust filled me completely. His sheer size, plus the burning sensation from the tequila, took my breath away. Every sensation: the feel of warm Mayan winds on my bare skin, the site of Bret’s strong rugby-toned body outlined by intense sun, the taste of tequila on my lips, and tequila and his erection filling my fiery box.
With one hand, I grabbed his hand in mine and forced our fingers to entwine. With the other, I reached up to trail the small beads of sweat dripping down his chest. Leveraged against my body, Bret reached down to grab my erect nipple in his teeth. No doubt he could taste the tequila that lingered still on my breasts. The jolt of pain as he clenched down mirrored the burning sensation of tequila on my slit. My back arched, stretching my tits closer to him in full-on ecstasy.
Both of us were so immensely turned on by the sun and the smell of flowers and sex. Rhythmically, his hips started rocking. Caressed with every move, my clit sent squirm-inducing pleasure up my spine. My pussy lips swelled as his ridge entered me again. Though I had every ounce of him, it wasn’t enough. My legs wrapped around his core pulling him deeper inside. My hands grabbed his ass to bury him to the hilt. No doubt fuzzy from tequila and sun, my mind went blank. I bit my lip to bring myself back to the reality of his pelvis grinding mine. Riding hard, Bret’s hips pulsed in a way that made me want to cum. Hard. Little drops of my juices merged with the sweat trailing down my inner thigh. Bret knew that I wanted him to take me harder. He felt the clenching of my walls, grabbing at him. I raised a finger to my lips and bit hard. It was impossible to stifle a moan. I wanted this fuck to last forever. To last forever because his cock, and the sun, warmed my body to a point of losing all control.
Every cell in my body ignited as Bret, knowing what I really wanted, pounded into me. I could see the sweat build along the line of his neck as he beat out a steady rhythm. Our bodies welded by the sun, his cock threatened to explode. At some point, the combination of heat and sex sent my mind over the edge. Unable to wait any longer, a gush of pussy juices burst from between my thighs covering us both with more drops. Sweat and sex and tequila covered us both. At the brink, Bret pulled out, and with a long moan shot hot, sticky, drops all over my whole body. Fully sated, my tongue graced the edge of my lips, taking in one salty drop.
Our bodies melded together and his head collapsed near mine. With a long kiss, I could taste the tequila on his tongue.
“You will have to tell Tom thanks for the tequila,” I whispered into his ear.
“I think the one I should be thanking is you,” Bret replied. “Gracias, chica.”
A giggle escaped my lips, “You may need to tell him that we need some more.”