Showing Off Always Leads to More Ch. 02

Day 2, Sunday.

Jon stirred awake, a low groan rumbling from his throat as blinding light assaulted his senses. The bedroom blazed--overhead lights glaring, windows flung wide. Spring-break sun poured in, magnified by the dazzling white snow outside. His head throbbed, a dull, relentless ache pulsing behind his temples. His mouth felt like sandpaper, the taste of last night's tequila lingering sourly. He reached to his left, expecting Makayla's warm body, but his hand flailed--smacking the nightstand, brushing a scatter of pills, then landing on a tall, cold glass. Confusion creased his brow--he was on her side of the bed, dumped there last night before passing out cold. Squinting, he forced his eyes open, vision swimming into focus. Four Advil sat beside a vibrant green smoothie, its fresh fruit scent--pineapple, mango, a hint of kale--cutting through the stale air. He glanced right--her side was empty, sheets rumpled but cold.

From the closet came a rustle, then her familiar humming--a soft, upbeat pop tune also stuck in his head from the club scene the night before. Sitting up, he rubbed his temples, wincing as the headache spiked. He tried to piece together last night. Fragments flickered--laughter, shots, the club's thumping bass, a blur of Makayla's keg stand splitting the crowd wild, then the warmth of the pool. A fantastic blur, chaotic and thrilling, underpinned by his friends' support, their inclusion of him and Makayla, their fawning over her. Chris's toast replayed in his mind--praising his success, soothing that once gnawing insecurity of missing out on college with them. Through the hangover's fog, he smiled--today was going to be a good day.

Makayla emerged from the closet, wet hair brushing against her bare shoulders. A massive grin lit her face as she hauled a mountain of clothes--long johns, thick socks, undershirts, ski pants, a puffy jacket--all bundled in her arms. Only her beaming face and shins peeked out, her feet padding softly on the hardwood. Their eyes met, and her smile widened, mirrored by his own goofy, hungover grin.

"Baby, you're up!" she chirped, voice bright and teasing. "I bet you got a hangover from hell."

Jon nodded, grimacing.

"Yeah, Jesus, I'm still a little tipsy, and my head--God, it's throbbing," he said.

He grabbed the Advil, popping them into his mouth. He chased them with a sip of the smoothie--cool, sweet, a burst of relief sliding down his throat as he propped himself upright against the headboard.

She shuffled to the foot of the bed, in front of him, looking for a landing pad for her ski outfit as she spoke.

"Oh, poor baby, that smoothie should fix you right up," she said.

With a playful flourish, she dumped the clothes onto the mattress, revealing her fully naked body--full frontal, unfiltered, right in front of him. Her olive skin glowed in the harsh light, water beading on her collarbone. It trickled between her giant breasts--full and perky, light brown nipples puckered tight from the window's chill. Her smooth stomach dipped to her bare pussy, lips soft and inviting, framed by toned thighs still damp from her shower. Jon's jaw slackened, arousal surging through his haze--he'd never seen her like this, not with the lights blazing, not so brazenly bare. She caught his stare, shifting into a flirty, sultry pose--one hand on her hip, chest thrust forward, letting the sight linger. He swallowed hard, dick twitching under the sheets.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever set eyes on," he said, voice rough with awe.

She giggled, a light, bubbling sound, and stepped closer. Her confidence bloomed--a stark shift from the Makayla who'd hidden her full exposure from him before, always slipping into the closet to change, shying from bright lights.

"I hope you don't mind this side of me," she said, her tone playful yet edged with something deeper. "I feel really good in my skin, knowing the effect I have on you boys in real life--not just filtered social media pics with perfect lighting and editing."

Her words danced around her Instagram persona--that bold, booty-pic-posting vixen who thrived on male attention, a version of herself she'd only used as an escape, behind closed doors, until yesterday's chaos cracked it open. Jon's praise, the guys' reactions, her own pleasure--it had unleashed her vixen side, merging that online security with her in-person, flesh-and-blood self.

He grinned, simple and earnest.

"I love it," he said.

She glanced down, nodding at the tent in the sheets.

"Oh, I can tell," she said. "You walked around with a hard-on all night, and when I went down on you, you really took control--even talked dirty with me. You grabbed my head and humped my face. It was so hot!"

Jon perked up, searching his fuzzy memory, intrigued.

"Really?" he asked. "I talked dirty? Wow, I didn't think I had it in me."

She leaned closer, still naked, her wet hair brushing his arm.

"Oh my God, babe, it was so hot," she said.

He set the smoothie down, curiosity piqued.

"Well, fill me in," he said.

She plopped onto the bed beside him, bare ass sinking onto the sheets. She patted his dick beneath.

"Last night in the pool, after showing me off all night and getting your friends worked up, I wanted to rub it in their faces for you," she said. "So I crawled over to you, pulled down your pants, and sucked you off--you should have seen their faces."

Jon blinked, stunned.

"Wow, I, uh, I don't remember that at all," he said. "The guys... watched?"

He took another sip of the smoothie, processing, and playing with the idea--it sounded kind of good. She nodded, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Oh my God, baby, you should've seen it--they looked like zombies," she said. "They couldn't handle it and started wanking it."

Jon sat up fully, smoothie clinking back onto the nightstand, widening his eyes.

"You're telling me even Chris--the guy who probably hasn't jerked off in half a decade because of all the girls that fall in his lap--started wanking it to you sucking me off... in my lodge, in my pool?" he asked. "Holy shit, that's... something."

His mind spiraled, painting the picture--Chris, the college Casanova who'd flaunted threesomes and conquests, reduced to jerking off to Jon getting blown by Makayla in a multimillion-dollar lodge he partly owned. It hit like a thunderbolt--earth-shattering, confidence-soaring. That anchor of missing out, dragging him down for four years, dissolved in the glow of this mental image. Entirely unaware of how lost in thought Jon was as he replayed the scene in his head, focusing intently on the significance of what it all meant, no longer registering any further words, Makayla rambled on.

"It was so hot, I had to get myself off as I went down on you, and the guys couldn't handle it all and just started shooting off--even on me when you came in my mouth," she said. "I've never felt sexier or hornier in my life, totally comfortable nude in front of everyone. Oh, and Justin was, like, walking up to us, dick-in-hand with that look, you know, beating away..."

The words "Justin" and "dick" in close vicinity snapped Jon back to the conversation, brow furrowing.

"Wait, what?" he asked. "Naked? The guys cumming? Justin's dick?"

She waved a hand casually, knowing where this was going.

"Don't worry, you told Justin to back off, and he had to cum in a puddle on the side of the pool--looked like a toddler in time-out," she said.

Jon smirked at that, but pressed.

"Everyone was naked?" he asked. "You were naked?"

She nodded, unfazed.

"Yeah, it was all dark and cold, and we were all still in our going-out clothes," she said. "You jumped in unbothered, everyone followed, and I was basically drowning in my dress. You said you didn't want water in the house, so we had to eventually strip off. When I got your clothes off, I saw your dick and their eyes, I just had to go for it."

Jon's stomach churned at first--his friends seeing her naked?--but the darkness eased it some. Then the image hit: those smooth-talking, girl-chasing buddies, after years of wild orgies and a prime college experience, whipping their dicks out in the freezing cold to wank to his girl blowing him. That is just too good. He grinned at the thought as Makayla watched his face. She spotted the initial flicker of concern before it melted away.

"Is that okay?" she asked, tentative. "I was trying to get you your fun little revenge."

He cut her off, beaming.

"Babe, you're fucking perfect," he said. "This is crazy--this week's gonna be so much fun. I love you!"

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him--soft, warm, a spark igniting.

She pulled the covers back, exposing his hard-on--shaft rigid, head flushed pink--and started at his balls. Her tongue flicked slow and wet up the seam, tasting chlorine and skin. He watched, disbelief flooding him as she licked up to the tip. The show was blatant in the bright light--a sight he'd never gotten before. She took him in, lips wrapping tight, sucking slow and sensual--eyes locked on his, wide with surprise and lust. Her tits swayed as she bent over, straddling his legs, ass high. The door swung open, Chris's voice booming.

"Is the big guy up yet?" he asked.

He froze, mid-step, at the sight of Makayla--bent over, nude, dick in mouth, her pussy and ass splayed toward him in the stark light.

"God, that sight's so much better sober and during the day," he said, grinning.

Jon jolted, yanked from pleasure.

"Whoa, bro, come on--knock!" he said.

Chris raised his hands, with a happy-for-you kind of look.

"Oh, sorry, I don't want to spoil the fun," he said.

He backed out, closing the door with a click.

Makayla giggled, pulling off with a wet smack.

"Poor guy's gonna have to get used to seeing your dick in my mouth... maybe some other places," she said.

Jon's eyes widened, mind racing--Chris had just seen her ass, her pussy, bent over in full glory, a view Jon hadn't even claimed yet. But her words--"poor guy," "get used to it"--flipped the script. Chris had now seen her, not ideal, but Jon had seen him, the look in his eyes, what he needed through these past 4 alienated years, envious in a brotherly way--proud, not resentment. Jon relaxed, smiling.

"Hah, yeah, I guess he does," he said.

He kissed her forehead.

"Let's join them--I'll fuck the shit out of you tonight instead of spoiling the day too early," he said.

She giggled.

"Alright, let's booze and cruise the slopes," she said, and grabbed her long johns, slipping them on--tight white fabric hugging her curves, nipples poking through as she dressed.

Fifteen minutes later, they descended the stairs into the kitchen--Jon in ski pants and a thin undershirt, coat slung over his arm, Makayla matching, her tight white top accentuating her erect nipples. The guys lounged at the island bar--snow pants on, undershirts loose, coats draped over the couch--beers in hand. A cheer rose as they spotted Jon.

"There he is--the king of the night!" Joe called.

Adam grinned.

"How was the morning BJ?" he asked.

Justin added.

"How's the hangover, champ?" he said--a warm, respectful buzz, not overblown, just respectful.

Jon set his empty smoothie glass on the counter, grabbing a beer from the cooler. The cold can bit his palm. Chris and Adam clapped his back, Chris chuckling.

"Usually the first night's tame--everyone settling in, shaking off the road," he said. "But last night? Fucking unhinged. If that's our baseline, this week's gonna be pure madness to top it."

Jon laughed, popping the tab.

"Haha, yeah, that was probably the most I've ever drank," he said.

Joe leaned in, grinning.

"You beat us all, man--out-drunk the crew," he said. "Congrats."

His tone was genuine, no patronizing edge.

"How much you remember?" he asked.

Jon paused--club halfway was his cutoff, a blackout blur after--but didn't want them knowing the truth, that he couldn't recall the poolside jerk-off defeat.

"Memories come and go," he said, casual. "Last thing I remember is you guys jerking it while I got a BJ."

They erupted--"Ohhh, you bastard!" Adam laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in!" he said.

Chris smirked.

"Haha, and poor Justin had to jerk off in timeout--didn't even get a good view," he said.

Jon glanced at Justin, catching a flicker of that pushed-out vibe he'd felt yesterday--outsider blues. Guilt nudged him.

"Aw, don't worry about it, Justin--we'll get tight this trip," he said. "Let's get the party started."

He raised his beer, and they clinked cans--laughter and cheers ringing out, a merry kickoff to Sunday.

Jon settled into a chair, Makayla sliding in to his right, her tight white undershirt clinging to her curves. Nipples sharper now in the cold--two insistent points he couldn't peel his eyes from. Chris plopped down next to her, ski gear rattling, and immediately started griping.

"These lift tickets are fucking robbery--a hundred-twenty bucks for a day?" he said. "I could've bought new goggles for that."

Jon half-listened, gaze lingering on Makayla's chest, then cleared his throat.

"You gonna put your coat on?" he asked. "It might get chilly up there."

His tone was casual, but ambiguous in intent. Chris cut in, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Shit, getting my boots on and lugging my gear to the base, I'm sweating my ass off," he said. "I think I'm going tank-top only today--get a tan."

Behind them, Joe, Adam, and Justin squeezed onto the next chair. Their laughter echoed as the lift hummed upward, snow-dusted pines sliding past.

The chair crested the summit, and they hopped off, sliding sideways down the slight pitch. Jon braced for a biting wind, but none came--the air hung still. The sun blazed down at a balmy 30 degrees, high UVs and warm snow pants turning it into a deceptive 70.

"Damn," Makayla said, squinting at the clear blue sky, "this is a gorgeous spring day."

Chris nodded, peeling off his undershirt to reveal a ripped tank underneath. Muscles flexed as he stretched.

"Told you--tan time," he said.

Adam followed, stripping to a snug white tee. His broad frame cut a sharp silhouette. Jon, the only one with a backpack, unzipped it as they shed layers.

"Wish I'd worn a tank," she said, pouting slightly.

The guys playfully commented on her happy-to-see-them nipples. She giggled, unfazed, and rolled her shirt up to just under her boobs--exposing a toned waist, olive skin taut over subtle abs. Chris whistled low.

"Look at that fitfluencer--hashtag goals," he said.

Adam grinned.

"Fucking A," he said.

They shuffled to the lockers aside the mountaintop lodge--a sprawling, timber-beamed hub buzzing with skiers. A bar glowed at one end, and Chris slapped the counter.

"Round of Irish car bombs--let's go!" he said.

The bartender slid over five murky pints--Guinness swirling with Baileys and Jameson shots dropped in. They clinked glasses, chugging hard--foam spilling, the bitter-sweet burn hitting Jon's throat as he slammed his empty pint down, grinning.

"If we split up," he said, wiping his mouth, "meet back here at noon for more."

Makayla nodded, clipping her skis back on.

"Solid plan," she said.

They pushed off, carving down the slope--powder spraying, laughter trailing behind.

First run, Jon stuck with Joe and Makayla, their skis slicing through soft snow to the bottom. They hopped the lift again, but the next descent split them--Joe peeling off, leaving Jon and Makayla alone. She grinned, cheeks flushed from the ride.

"That car bomb was good--let's grab another," she said.

They veered toward a mid-mountain shack, boots crunching as they stepped inside. Chris and Adam were just leaving, empty glasses in hand, Adam smirking.

"Look who it is," he said. "See you at noon!"

Jon ordered two more, the bartender dropping the shots with a splash. They chugged--Makayla tilting her head back, gulping fast, but a slosh of Guinness splashed her shirt. She gasped, laughing.

"Oh my God, look--you can totally see my tit!" she said.

Jon glanced--her left breast outlined, the wet fabric clinging translucent. Her light-brown nipple showed as a faint shadow beneath. His gut twisted, unease flaring at the thought of others spotting it--but her goggles hid her face, and they'd ditch this crowd soon. The anger faded, replaced by a slow burn of arousal as he imagined eyes on her. She caught his look, tilting her head.

"Do I look good?" she asked.

He grinned, sheepish but honest.

"Yeah, I'll admit--it's a sexy look," he said. "The idea of others gawking kinda turns me on."

She giggled, playful and knowing.

"If there's one thing I've learned about you this trip, it's that you really do like the idea of others gawking," she said.

Jon flushed, embarrassed at being so transparent, but her laugh pulled him in--he chuckled too, shaking his head.

"Guess you've got me figured out," he said.

They clicked skis back on and pushed off, carving down the slope. Snow sprayed in their wake. Halfway down, Makayla slowed, wincing.

"I've gotta pee--can't make it to the bottom," she said.

Jon nodded, feeling the pressure himself.

"Same--let's hit the trees," he said.

They veered off-piste, weaving between runs into a lightly wooded patch--pine needles dusting the snow, tracks crisscrossing from other skiers. Jon slid lower, about 30 feet downslope from her, scanning the busy tracks warily--people clearly came through here often. Still, he popped his skis off, unzipped, and pulled out--painting yellow snow at the foot of a tree trunk. Relief washed over him.

Makayla stopped higher up, clicking out of her skis with a soft grunt. She glanced around, then yanked her snow pants down--white fabric bunching at her knees. Her bare ass flashed pale against the snowy backdrop. From Jon's angle, down below a sharp drop-off, he could only see her from the chest up--her jacket and shirt shielding her lower half, giving her a sliver of privacy. She squatted, steam rising from the snow. She finished, standing to pull her pants up as she faced up the mountain. A pack of guys barreled through the trees, whooping loud. Dressed in camo pants and neon goggles--orange, pink, lime--they flew towards her, reckless and fast. The lead guy, maybe 18, a wiry kid with a mop of blond hair under his helmet, spotted her too late.

"Shit!" he yelled, swerving hard to avoid a full-body collision.

His skis caught, and he ate it--tumbling head over heels. Snow exploded around him as he crashed into Makayla.

She yelped, high and sharp, as he slammed into her--knocking her flat on her stomach, sliding 10 feet downslope from her skis. Her pants, snagged by patches of stationary snow during the slide, yanked further down--bunching at her ankles. This left her ass and pussy bare against the cold powder. The guy landed atop her, skis tangled, panting as he scrambled to push up.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" he sputtered, voice cracking with panic.

Jon popped his skis off, adrenaline spiking as he slogged uphill--sinking chest-deep into the soft snow. Each step was a slow, laborious drag as he fought to reach her. The kid, perched at her feet--slightly upslope--froze, his neon-orange goggles lifting as he stared down. Her ass cheeks spread naturally from the fall, round and firm. The tight pucker of her asshole sat as a dark dot above her pussy--lips pink and splayed, glistening faintly from the cold and her earlier pee, framed by smooth, shaved skin.

"Oh my God," he gasped again, gawking, jaw slack, transfixed by the sight of her bare, vulnerable pussy.

The kid's jaw hung slack as he gawked at Makayla's bare pussy--pink lips parted from the fall, glistening faintly with cold and earlier relief, nestled between her spread ass cheeks. She twisted her head, snow crunching under her cheek, and snapped.

"Come on, fucking help me!" she said.

Her voice cut sharp, frustration boiling over. The kid blinked, snapping out of his trance, and scrambled to his knees--grabbing her ankles, still tangled in her bunched snow pants, and tugging upward. His buddies, stopped 10 feet upslope near her skis, caught the scene--a sexy girl, pants down, sprawled in the powder--and skied closer. Grins split their faces as they took in the view. Jon, chest-deep in snow, trudged agonizingly slow up the steep bank, sweat soaking his undershirt. He couldn't see her yet, she disappeared--only the guys' leering faces as their voices carried down.

"God damn, look at her ass," one crowed.

"Her pussy's perfect," another chimed in, awe and lust dripping from the words.

Jon's blood surged, anger flaring.

"Help her, you fucks!" he shouted, voice hoarse, but they waved him off, casual as hell.

"Chill, dude, we got her," they said.

Their fourth friend, a lanky guy in lime-green goggles, paused by her skis and called down.

"You guys good?" he asked.

The trio below nodded.

"Yeah," they said, and turned to Makayla, still prone.

"We'll hold your feet," the lead kid said, gripping her ankles tighter. "Pull yourself back, and we'll help you stand."

She hesitated, picturing it--bent over, ass thrust toward them, pussy and asshole on full display--but her skis were upslope, and Jon was nowhere close. It was the only way. Gritting her teeth, she flexed her hamstrings, dragging her butt backward--knees pushing into the snow. Her torso lifted into a doggy-style pose, her ass cheeks parting wider, pussy lips spreading as the cold air bit her skin. From their angle, it was a pornographic jackpot--her slit framed by smooth thighs, asshole winking above, every curve stark against the white powder. Before she could straighten fully, a sharp smack landed on her right cheek--flesh jiggling, a red handprint blooming. The spanker, a stocky guy in pink goggles, grinned.

"Sorry, I had to--consider it my reward for helping," he said.

She whipped around, green eyes flashing.

"You guys are assholes," she said.

Then she froze--three phones glinted in their hands, snapping pics.

"What the fuck?" she yelled. "Delete those, you jerks!"

Jon, still 15 feet downslope, caught her words and roared.

"What the fuck?" he shouted. "Leave her alone!"

Now upright, she spun to face them--pants still at her ankles, pussy briefly flashing before she yanked them up, covering herself. The stocky guy smirked.

"You probably should get the snow out of your pants," he said.

Her chest heaved, wet from the slide--her white undershirt soaked through, clinging like a second skin. Her giant tits were outlined, nipples dark and hard under the sheer fabric. They ogled, phones still clicking.

"Fuck, those tits are insane," one muttered.

"Look at those nips--perfect," another added, crude and unabashed.

Makayla swatted at her shirt, dusting off snow, but stopped--her pants were packed with powder, legs numbing fast. She whimpered, defeated, and glanced at Jon--his head just cresting the ledge, 10 or so feet away, drenched in sweat. His eyes were wide with tired frustration. Three guys, phones out, her pants down again--she'd tugged them back to her knees, scooping snow from her thighs, tits bouncing with each frantic move. Jon muttered under his breath.

"God damnit," he said, trudging closer, too slow to stop it, his dick twitching traitorously beneath his snow pants as the scene burned into his brain.

She finished, yanking her pants up, and the guys jeered.

"So fucking hot," the lead kid said. "That pussy's unreal--perfect ass too, especially with my handprint."

She ignored them, yelling upslope.

"Bring my skis down!" she shouted.

The lanky guy by her skis cupped his ear, smirking.

"Can't hear you!" he said.

She stepped forward--sinking knee-deep into the snow--and shouted.

"Please, bring my skis down!" she said.

He picked them up, grinning wickedly.

"It's gonna cost you," he said.

She whimpered, voice small.

"Ya, and what's that?" she asked.

He hefted her skis.

"I want a handful," he said.

Her jaw tightened.

"Get fucked, asshole," she said.

His grin widened.

"That's gonna cost you more," he said. "Now it's me and my friends get a handful--or I toss these down the hill."

Jon, closing in on 9 feet, panting hard, staring up at the near-vertical embankment--anger warring with a dark, twisted arousal; at least they'd never see them again after this, right? Makayla's shoulders slumped, as she murmured a soft.

"Fine," she said.

The trio around her cheered, a ragged whoop, as the fourth guy skied down in a swift arc, sinking her skis upright into the snow above her, just out of reach. The spanker stepped up, peeling off a glove.

"I'll take a handful of those tits--pull 'em out," he said.

She glanced at Jon--his chin resting on the ledge, body submerged, face a mask of vengeful fury--and sighed, lifting her wet shirt. Her breasts spilled free--full, heavy, glistening with melted snow, nipples stiff. The guy snapped a pic, then reached out--bare hand grabbing both. He lifted them, letting them drop, feeling their weight.

"Damn, they're real--Jesus, that's some good shit," he marveled, kneading them roughly.

She twisted away, shirt still bunched, and huffed.

"Who's next?" she asked.

The second guy, a wiry kid in orange goggles, stepped up.

"Guess I need to feel those tits too," he said.

He pinched both nipples--fingers rolling the hard buds--then ducked down, planting his lips on her left breast. He sucked hard, tongue flicking as his hand kneaded the right. She shot Jon a look--a mix of frustration fading into casual inconvenience, like waiting out a delay--then pushed the guy back lightly.

"Alright, let's get this over with," she said, nodding at the third.

He swaggered forward, camo pants swishing.

"Tits are nice, but I'm an ass guy," he said.

She huffed, turning in her snowy hole--up to mid-thigh deep--perking her butt out. She started lowering her shirt, but he stopped her.

"No, no, leave it up--and drop the pants," he said.

She looked down, defeated, and obeyed, dropping her snow pants as far as the snow allowed--baring her ass again. Cheeks round and firm, the red handprint stood stark.

"Bend over," he ordered.

She leaned forward, chest sinking into the snow downslope, recoiling as the cold bit her nipples--sharp, electric jolts making her gasp. Jon's anger flared anew, his slow trudge resuming--trying to dig through the embankment, chest heaving, stuck in the powder. The guy snapped a pic, then reached out, pulling one cheek aside for a close-up--her asshole and pussy flashing--but she flexed her cheeks, sealing the view.

"Cut that shit out, be a good girl," he cooed, "reach back and spread your cheeks."

Resigned, she complied--hands gripping her ass, pulling wide. Her pussy lips parted, asshole puckering tight. All four groaned.

"Ohh, my God--look at that, it's fucking perfect," they said.

Jon's gut twisted--more dudes seeing her bent-over backside in broad daylight, a view he hadn't claimed--his dick throbbing despite the rage.

The pics kept piling up, as the new guy cupped her pussy--bare hand warm against her cold skin. His middle finger slid between her lips, fingertip grazing her clit. He rubbed slow, smirking.

"She's wet--bet she likes it," he said.

She stayed silent, cheeks flushing as his thumb probed her pussy's entrance, wiggling inside--hot, slick walls gripping him. A soft coo slipped out, involuntary, and they mocked it--high-pitched mimics echoing. She straightened, pulling his hand free, and glared at the last guy.

"Come on, I need a fucking drink--let's get this over with," she said.

He grinned, stepping close.

"Oh, don't act like you're not having fun too," she said. "Get back down and spread 'em."

She bent again, spreading her cheeks, and he rubbed her pussy--fingers teasing--then slid up to her asshole, circling the tight ring. He admired the almost "fit" look of her ring, not meaty, per se, but toned like the rest of her muscles on her body, which she clearly uses often. Could it be the same for her asshole? She could've yanked up her pants after the usual 15 seconds or so passed, but curiosity held her--wondering where he was going, and if Jon's visible anger was mixed with any arousal too. His finger pushed in and met resistance, not from tightness, but from dryness--and he chuckled.

"Looks like she works this little muscle out along with the rest of them," he said.

Her face blazed red for the first time in the entire humiliating sequence, memories of private, very personal, masturbation flashing--fingers, toys, that stretch she craved in her back door. They pounced, feeding off each other's reactions.

"She definitely takes it back there," one said.

"Ohh, bet she's a butt slut--look at that blush!" another added.

"Looks like she could take one deep!" a third chimed in.

He smirked.

"Need lube, you can pick--snow, icicle, or suck my finger?" he asked.

He scooped snow, pressing it to her clit--she yelped.

"Okay, my mouth!" she said--and he pulled his fingertip free, offering it.

She glared--knowing of its origin--then sucked, lips wrapping tight, a brief, dick-like bob under his "Come on" stare.

"Good girl," he purred, sinking it back into her ass--her hole swallowing it greedily, warm and tight, but notably giving.

"Damn, that feels good on my cold finger," he said as he wiggled it around, and finally pulling out. "Total butt slut."

He grabbed her skis, sinking them beside her. She yanked her pants up fast as three skied off, laughing. The last lingered, staring.

"Hey, I recognize you--you're on Instagram," he said. "I think I follow you."

She looked down, silent.

"I'll have to find you," he said, then skied toward Jon--flinging snow, from his sharp turn, in his face with a cackle before vanishing down the slope. Expert turns carved out of sight.

Makayla snapped her boots into her skis with a sharp click, the bindings locking tight as she shot Jon a quick glance. He stood there, chest heaving, panting hard--his face flushed from exertion and the sting of helplessness still raw in his gut. The deep snow had caged him, a powdery prison, and he cursed it under his breath, kicking at the packed path he'd burrowed through. Turning back, he trudged downslope to his skis, where Makayla now waited--unexpectedly popped out of hers, standing in the churned snow. Her soaked shirt clung like a gossamer veil, her giant tits nearly bare--nipples dark and stiff, pressing through the wet fabric. Her olive skin glistened in the midday sun. He reached her, arm sliding around hers, guilt twisting his stomach. Expecting tears or fury, he murmured.

"That was the most frustrating thing in the world," he said. "I've never been more sweaty and tired--digging a mineshaft through chin-deep powder. I'm so sorry."

She muttered.

"Those fucking douchebags," she said, her voice low and bitter--then lunged, kissing him hard, hungry, her breath loud with lust.

Her hand snaked down his snow pants, fingers wrapping around his cock--still rock-hard, leaking, a slick pool of precum smearing the head. Jon froze, nerves spiking--she'd caught him out again, his hidden arousal laid bare--but she didn't call it. Instead, she unsnapped his pants, tugging them down.

"I need you to fuck me," she said. "Now," her voice urgent, raw.

Surprised, he let her yank his pants past his hips--his dick springing free, glistening with precum in the cold air. She dropped to her knees, lips enveloping him--sucking wet and fast, tongue swirling, coating him in spit. Jon's mind spun, shock and confusion locking him in place as she stood, turned, and unbuttoned her pants--sliding them just below her ass. Cheeks round and pale, the red handprint still vivid. His breath hitched--he was about to fuck her from behind, in broad daylight, a view he'd been denied until now, and his pulse raced at the promise of it. But a sharp whoosh cut the air--a skier in a red coat veered toward them, snow spraying as he pulled a hockey stop beside Makayla. Her pants not fully up, Jon's wet dick standing proud. The ski patroller, a grizzled guy with a salt-and-pepper beard under his helmet, barked.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he said. "You're next to a blue run. This is a high-traffic area. Families ski through here. Put that shit away, and if I see you two again, I'm yanking your passes. Depending on what I catch, I might call the cops. Now go."

He pushed off, skis hissing down the slope as Jon stuffed himself back into his pants, cheeks burning.

Embarrassed, they clicked into their skis and carved down to the base lift, hurrying through the sparse line. The patroller stood chatting with the lifty--a lanky kid in a beanie--both laughing as Jon and Makayla approached the chair. As they sat, the pair shouted.

"Keep it in your pants!" they mocked--mockery ringing clear.

The chair lurched upward, and they rode in silence, snow-dusted pines sliding past. Fifty feet up, laughter burst out--uncontrollable, shared relief. Makayla wiped her eyes, grinning.

"At least it's almost noon--I need, like, three car bombs after that whole ordeal," she said.

Jon nodded, catching his breath.

"Yeah, no shit," he said.

She frowned, voice dropping.

"That last guy--the one who fingered my ass--he... I think he recognized me," she said. "Said he follows me on Instagram. Fuck, they've got all those pictures. What if they share them or tag me?"

Jon, who'd missed that exchange, tensed.

"That's... not good..." he said. "But that was fucking sexual assault--they photographed their own crime. I doubt they'd be stupid enough to post anything."

She nodded quietly, somewhat unconvinced, then he pressed, curious despite himself.

"About your ass--why'd you turn red as a tomato only after he called you a butt slut?" he asked.

She shot him a look--upset, blushing again.

"That's personal," she said. "How'd you feel if I asked why your pants felt like you'd cum when I grabbed your cock after that?"

Jon looked away, face heating.

"Alright, fair--let's focus on the car bombs," he said.

They crested the summit, spotting Joe's bright green beanie--weed leaf stitched on the back--near the lodge. Skiing down, they felt eyes--dozens of skiers gawking as Makayla's see-through shirt bared her tits to the world. Jon unzipped his backpack, pulling out his bulky powder jacket.

"Here," he said, handing it over.

She slipped it on, zipping it high, and Joe jogged up, grinning.

"Adam, Chris, and Justin are inside--car bombs ready," he said.

They stepped into the timber-beamed lodge, warm air thick with beer and sweat, and found the guys at the bar--five pints swirling with Baileys and Jameson.

"There they are!" Chris bellowed, sliding two over.

They chugged--foam spilling, the burn hitting hard--and swapped stories. Joe went first, laughing.

"Got yelled at for lighting a joint on the lift--worth it," he said.

Adam smirked.

"Skied with some bikini girls, they are all over today--nice eye candy," he said.

Justin grinned.

"Chris almost lost his pass--flying too fast past a patroller," he said.

Makayla, having downed her second car bomb in mere moments, loosened up and then added in.

"Oh, we almost lost ours, too!... For a different reason," she said, raising her brows suggestively.

Jon squirmed, dreading the full tale, but they pounced. Adam asked.

"Oh ya?" he said. "Let me guess, BJ on the lift?"

She laughed.

"Close--I was worked up and needed Jon's cock on the slope, in the tree line," she said. "Ski patrol stopped us."

"Holy fuck, that's awesome," Chris said, clapping Jon's back. "In all my years on the slopes, I've always wanted to pull that off--good for you."

Joe grinned.

"Did Jon's perfect carving get you going?" he asked.

She shook her head, tipsy now.

"No, I wish," she said. "We were taking a piss break, and an out-of-control skier slid into me as I pulled my pants up. Ended up bent over in the snow, pants down, Jon stuck digging uphill through powder while these douchebags made me pose and fondled me for my skis back."

The guys froze--Joe muttering.

"That's kinda hot, but, well, fuck those guys," he said. "You're now one of us--we need to find them."

Adam nodded.

"Damn, Jon, I know you like showing her off, but I bet you were livid," he said.

Jon sighed.

"Yeah, single most frustrating experience of my life," he said.

Makayla, buzzed, overshared.

"Yeah, sexually frustrating--you should've seen--" she said.

She caught Jon's glare and stopped, giggling.

"Oh, sorry, I won't kink-shame," she said.

Chris frowned, concerned for them both, while Joe and Adam smirked at the rare tension between the two love birds. Jon fired back.

"Maybe we should talk about how you apparently like it in the ass," he said.

She blushed, sheepish but smiling.

"Hey, whoa, alright, I get it--I'm sorry," she said.

She kissed him, soft and quick.

"I know that whole thing was bullshit--I was just trying to lighten it so it doesn't ruin the day," she said.

He softened.

"It's cool--I get it," he said. "Doesn't have to ruin anything if we don't let it."

Chris leaned in.

"Point them out if you see them," he said. "We've got five guys--they've, what'd you say? Four? Nothing wrong with some revenge."

Comradery surged--they clinked a third round of car bombs, downing them fast before heading out for the last few runs of the day.

Outside, a rowdy group--ten girls in bikinis, a few guys in swim trunks--milled near the lodge. University of Colorado Boulder stickers glinted on some of their helmets under the blazing noon sun. Their neon swimsuits popped against the white snow--hot pinks, electric blues, lime greens--skin glistening with sweat from the unseasonably warm day.

"Boulder! Heyy!" Joe shouted, skiing up, his green beanie bobbing as he waved.

The swimsuit crew turned, grinning wide, and beckoned them over with sweeping arms. A few moments of conversation followed, leading to.

"Join us for the bum run to après-ski!" they said.

A tall blonde with a Boulder sticker plastered across her chest, her bikini top barely containing her bouncing tits, ushered them on. A chant rose, ragged and infectious--"Bum run! Bum run! Bum run!"--echoing off the timber lodge walls as skiers nearby turned to watch. Makayla pouted, tugging at Jon's oversized jacket.

"Damn, I wish I had my top," she said.

Chris grinned, eyeing her still-damp shirt beneath.

"That shirt was pretty revealing--ditch the jacket," he said.

She unzipped it slow, peeling it off--her wet long-sleeve clung tight, nipples stark and dark. A faint outline of her areolas teased through the fabric.

"It's so cold with this wet thing," she said, shivering as a breeze nipped her skin. "It'd be warmer even in a bikini."

Chris shrugged, tossing his own jacket aside to flex in his shirtless look. Biceps rippled.

"Fair point--your call," he said.

The bum run kicked off--they pushed forward in a chaotic pack, skis hissing through the soft snow. Powder sprayed in glittering arcs. The Boulder girls carved center--two brunettes in matching blue bikinis skiing tight, their lean thighs flexing with each turn, hair whipping behind them. A guy in green trunks swooped between them, nimble and cocky--fingers snagging the ties on their bikini tops. The strings popped loose, tops flapping free as they shrieked, hands flying up in mock protest--palms cupping their breasts for a beat before laughter took over. Cheers erupted from the pack--Joe whooping loudest.

"Hell yeah!" he shouted--and they relented, dropping their arms, tops in hand, skiing on with tits bare.

Pale from winter, their breasts bounced with each dip--small but perky, nipples pink and tight in the chill. New tan lines from the day's light carved sharp crescents across their chests. Jon watched, Makayla's arm brushing his, her own chest still hidden but drawing his eye all the same. The group hit the next run's crest--a wide, sun-soaked catwalk--and paused, catching their breath as the Boulder girls struck poses. Hands on hips, they proudly displayed their racks. Snow clung to their skin in patches, melting into rivulets that traced their curves, dripping off their nipples to the powder below.

A Boulder guy--broad-shouldered, with a scruffy beard poking from under his helmet--smirked at Jon's crew.

"Did girls have tits like these back in your day?" he asked, his voice carrying a taunting edge. His buddies chuckled behind him.

Chris laughed, loud and easy, leaning on his poles.

"Hold up now, I literally just graduated," he said. "Plus, they're nice--real nice--but we're used to better."

The trunk-clad dude scoffed, crossing his arms. His swim trunks sagged low to show a strip of dark hair trailing down.

"Whatever you say, buddy," he said.

Makayla caught Chris's smirk--a silent dare glinting in his eyes--and her lips curled, a spark igniting. She reached for Jon's jacket, unzipping it with a slow, deliberate pull--fabric parting to reveal her soaked shirt. Then she yanked it off her shoulders. She peeled the wet long-sleeve over her head--tits spilling free, full and heavy, olive skin gleaming with a sheen of melted snow and sweat. Her nipples stood proud. There was no comparison with the Boulder girls', the overwhelming, almost unnatural perkiness, coupled with the rare fullness, caught the sunlight in a way that made them glow against her curves. The Boulder guys gaped--jaws dropping, eyes bulging as they took her in, freezing in awe. The girls shot her icy glares--lips pursing, arms crossing over their smaller chests, upstaged and bitter. Chris, Adam, Justin, and Joe erupted--wild, victorious whoops tearing through the air. Joe's attempt to soften the tension came through.

"It's ok, all tits are a gift, am I right?" he said, as Adam pumped a fist, Justin clapping Jon's shoulder with a grin.

Jon squirmed, a flicker of unease tightening his chest--her exposure so bold, so public, laid bare for strangers on this sunlit slope. Her tits swayed as she adjusted her stance, snowflakes dusting the tops. The flakes melted into tiny beads that rolled down her cleavage. But pride swelled over the discomfort--his girl, his, shone brightest, her rack unrivaled, every eye craving her, yet she belonged to him alone. She tossed the shirt into his backpack, standing tall, unashamed. Her posture dared anyone to challenge her reign. They pushed off again, skiing down to the base in a roaring pack--her breasts bouncing with each turn, full and hypnotic. Snow dusted her skin in fleeting white kisses before melting away. The Boulder girls carved beside her, their smaller tits jiggling, but all eyes tracked Makayla--her curves cutting through the powder like a beacon.

The après-ski bar loomed ahead, a rustic sprawl of wood and neon at the base, and as they slid in--skis scraping to a stop--the crowd erupted. Cheers rolled over them, a wave of hoots and whistles from skiers lounging with beers on the deck. The Boulder girls retied their tops, muttering under their breath, fingers fumbling with the strings as they glanced at Makayla with thinly veiled envy. She stood topless, radiant, the crowd's roars washing over her like a tidal wave as the Boulder girls retied their bikini tops, muttering under their breath.

Fingers fumbled with the strings while casting thinly veiled glares her way. Jon squirmed, a flicker of unease tightening his chest--her exposure so bold, so public, laid bare for strangers on this sunlit slope. Her tits swayed as she adjusted her stance, snowflakes dusting the tops, melting into tiny beads that rolled down her cleavage, catching the light in shimmering trails. But pride swelled over the discomfort--his girl, his, shone brightest, her rack unrivaled, every eye craving her, yet she belonged to him alone. She reached into his backpack, fishing out one of his spare undershirts--a loose gray tee--and tugged it over her head. The fabric draped over her curves, nipples still faintly pressing through as it settled. She tossed her wet long-sleeve in the bag, smirking at him, and they clicked out of their skis. Boots crunched as they headed inside the après-ski bar.

The place buzzed--a rustic sprawl of weathered wood and neon, the bar stretching along a massive window facing the slope. Nearly every stool was taken, skiers nursing beers and shots, their faces still turned from watching Makayla's grand entrance. As Jon and Makayla squeezed in, claiming a spot near the end, a grizzled guy in a flannel two seats down leaned over. He grinned with yellowed teeth.

"Those tits just made my day--perfect fuckin' pair," he said.

A woman in a puffy vest nearby laughed.

"Hell, I'd kill for a rack like that," she said.

Jon, three car bombs deep and riding the high of his earlier revelations, didn't bristle--grinned instead, soaking it in. The booze dulled any edge of jealousy. Makayla winked at the guy, unfazed, and ordered a beer, her elbow brushing Jon's as they settled against the sticky counter.

Chris sidled up, his usual cocky grin replaced by a rare, sober intensity that snapped Jon's fuzzy focus sharp.

"Bro," Chris said, voice low and steady, "you do not know what you have. She is by far the most beautiful and charming woman I've ever seen. Do whatever it takes to put a ring on that finger."

Jon's chest warmed, a bright, sloppy smile spreading as he nodded.

"Yeah, man, you're right--thanks," he said.

Chris clapped his shoulder, leaning closer.

"Your relationship dynamic is so cool too--so rare, perfect for you," he said. "I know why you got with Kenzie, how you were into her being all sexual with others, and I get why you had to call it off--because at the end of the day, she was just a whore. She did everything for herself, and herself alone. Makayla only has eyes for you--everything she does is for you. She wants it for you so bad she gets off on it. That's fuckin' IT, my friend--that's the goal."

Jon blinked, surprised by the Kenzie drop--a sore spot Chris rarely touched--but he didn't flinch, appreciating the intent. The words sank in, reframing his past. He'd fallen for Kenzie's wild energy, chasing that college life he'd missed, even as her lies about her "tame" past unraveled. Eighteen months of suspecting her party flings--him stuck working 30 minutes off-campus--had sparked a twisted thrill, his darkest secret, jerking off to the idea of her with random dudes, only to crash into regret. Chris saw through the walls he still has up, and now--his friendship solidifying back to its old strength. Jon turned, catching Makayla's wide, beautiful smile as she humored the old flannel guy, who was still raving.

"Those tits are goddamn flawless," he said.

She laughed, unbothered, and Jon's pride swelled--no creep bending her over in the snow, fingering her while holding her skis hostage, could shake that she was his. He stepped up, voice booming over the din.

"A round for the house--on me!" he said.

He raised his half-empty beer, grinning wide.

"To the finest pair of tits on God's green earth, but most importantly, to the sweetest lady I've ever met--cheers!" he shouted.

The bar erupted--glasses clinking, hoots echoing off the rafters as Makayla blew him a kiss, laughing.

By 4 p. m., they stumbled back to Elk Ridge Lodge, a few hundred feet upslope from the bar--legs heavy, heads swimming from the day's booze and sun. Joe, ever the live wire, bounced ahead, his green beanie flopping as he waved his arms.

"Come on, guys, energy's dropping--don't crash on me now!" he said.

Jon and Makayla groaned in unison.

"We're just gonna lie down for a few minutes," they said.

Chris echoed.

"Same--need a breather," he said.

Joe rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a baggie of 30mg extended-release Adderall pills, handing one to each.

"This'll perk you up--trust me," he said.

They all knew the drill--college nights fueled by the stuff--and Makayla popped hers, shrugging.

"Yeah, but it takes over an hour to kick in," she said. "I'll take it now, rest quick, then come down when it hits."

Joe grinned.

"Fair compromise," he said.

They swallowed the pills dry, throats scratchy, and Jon and Makayla trudged upstairs, peeling off wet gear--her soaked shirt and snow pants hitting the floor. His jacket and undershirt followed. He flopped onto his side of the bed, sheets crunchy under him, as she padded nude to her side, skin glowing in the dim light filtering through the blinds.

He propped up on an elbow, frowning at the bed.

"Why're these sheets all crusty?" he asked.

She slid in, smirking.

"Probably cum from last night," she said.

Jon's brow furrowed--he didn't remember, just her poolside recap--and pictured the BJ. He imagined he'd pulled out, spraying her tits like he loved when the lights were rarely on, watching her rub it in. He turned to her, voice soft.

"You're a shining star, babe," he said. "I've fallen more in love with you just these past two days."

She nestled closer, bare thigh brushing his.

"Me too--I feel the same," she said. "We're both really coming out of our shells."

Her eyes glinted, bold.

"I've never spent so much time this turned on," she said.

Curiosity piqued, he leaned in.

"What got you so worked up from that douchebag mess?" he asked.

She blushed, fingers tracing the sheet.

"I'll be an open book if you are," she said.

He hesitated, then nodded.

"Deal--go for it," he said.

She took a breath, voice low.

"I like the effect that I've found I have on guys," she said. "I guess I learned it through Instagram--struggling to grow my page, I noticed the more ass I showed in reels, the more engagement I got. So I slowly leaned in--more skin, tighter shorts. It turned into this alternate personality, one where I was actually comfortable exploring my sexuality. I was always scared of rejection, insecure about my body, ashamed of dirty thoughts. But playing that confident Instagram girl--no insecurities, just power--it turned me on. Yesterday and today, that version's taken over. I feel happier, sexier than ever. Seeing those guys lose it, unable to help themselves, plus I was wondering what you were thinking as they poked and prodded. I secretly hoped you were into it, then finding your hard, leaking dick--I can't describe it, it just sent me into a frenzy. Turning you on while embracing my exhibitionist side protected by the appearance that it was all forced? That was a new high for me now."

Her hand had slipped between her thighs, fingers circling slow as she spoke. Breath hitched.

Jon's cock stiffened, tenting his boxers as he watched her masturbate. Her honesty stoked him. Her arousal climbed, and she dug deeper.

"Embarrassment amps it up too," she said. "It's harder to feel it as I get more confident, but when it hits--like when they talked about my ass--it's so hot. They got lucky hitting on my most private thing."

He shifted, harder now, but curious--her tame past didn't hint at this.

"Have you had anal?" he asked.

She buried half her face in the pillow, fingers moving faster.

"No, no one's been back there," she said. "It's just... I watch porn sometimes, saw anal, and wondered how it'd feel. Played with hairbrushes, other stuff around the house--found I really liked it."

She peeked at him, shy.

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe I'm telling you this--I swore I'd never tell a soul," she said.

He grinned, coaxing.

"Go on," he said.

She swallowed.

"Okay, I just really like putting stuff in my butt--playing with it," she said. "I don't know why, I just do."

He studied her, surprised but intrigued.

"Wow, I'd never have guessed," he said. "I've never thought much about it, but it sounds kinda hot. I'd just worry about, you know, a mess."

She laughed, quick and light.

"Yeah, well, when you're at my level of expertise, it's not much of a concern," she said.

He cocked his head.

"What's that mean?" he asked.

She smirked.

"You know that Instagram thing I catch the most shit for?" she said.

His eyes widened.

"The... coffee enemas?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Yeah, I didn't lie back when you asked about it, they do pay me a bunch to shill it, but it clears you out--makes it so you can do whatever afterwards, no mess guaranteed," she said.

He blinked.

"No shit?" he asked.

She giggled.

"Haha, yeah, exactly," she said, and they both dissolved into laughter--the pun hitting the awkwardness square, shattering it.

He caught his breath.

"Well, if you want, I'd be down to participate," he said.

She softened.

"Aww, thanks--but I might need some mental prep," she said. "It's tucked behind a few barriers. In time."

Then she grinned.

"Alright, I spilled my deepest secret--what's yours?" she asked. "Why did I find such a leaky cock in your snow pants earlier?"

He flushed, scratching his neck.

"I guess, lately, I've realized I want my cake and I want to eat it too," he said. "Thought it was impossible, but here you are. With Kenzie, I knew she was a slut--she swore she wasn't, but I needed an in to that college life I missed. Over time, I figured she was with other dudes while I was working--parties, whatever. The idea started turning me on--a girl others wanted and chased--but I also didn't like it, because she never felt mine. Some stuff was hot--I was new to sex, didn't know what was normal. Tried to make it work, but hearing she got gangbanged by my friends fucked me up. Jerked off to it a dozen times after, but regretted it--no calm at the end, because she wasn't mine. With you, those dudes, whatever happened at the pool--it's the same stuff that gets me going, but it doesn't hurt, because I don't feel like I am losing you. Afterwards, I just feel even more confident you're mine."

She smiled, fingers slowing, and leaned to kiss him--soft, deep, their confessions binding them tighter as the Adderall hummed faintly in their veins. Jon pulled back, meeting her eyes. His voice was low and earnest.

"I swear I won't share a thing with anyone," he said.

Before she could reply, Adam's voice cut through the open window beside them--sharp and teasing from the gas firepit below.

"Yeah, we swear we won't share a thing either," he said.

Jon and Makayla bolted upright, eyes locking wide, faces flushing hot--caught. They scrambled out of bed, bare feet slapping the hardwood as they stumbled to the window. They peered down. Adam, Joe, and Chris lounged by the flickering flames, grinning up with big, dumb smiles and thumbs-ups. Justin sprawled shirtless on a pool chair, out cold, oblivious. Jon and Makayla slunk back, slamming the window shut with a bang--more for effect than necessity. Jon paced, hands raking his hair, red as a beet.

"Holy fuck, holy fuck--I've never told... that was such... Jesus Christ," he said.

She stood there, fully nude, skin glowing in the dim room, staring at him--her silence electric, her green eyes glinting with something wild.

"I... I... I need you to fuck me," she stammered, voice thick with urgency.

She grabbed his wrist, yanking him toward the bed, and shoved him back--his ass hitting the crunchy sheets as she climbed atop him. Thighs straddled his hips. His cock, already hard from their confessions, throbbed against her as she gripped it, guiding it to her slick entrance--hot, wet, pulsing with need. She sank down, taking him in one slow, deliberate slide--her pussy tight, gripping him like a vice as she moaned low. Eyes squeezed shut. Her hips rocked wild, frantic, grinding him deep, her ass cheeks flexing with each thrust--round and firm, the red handprint from the slope still faintly visible. She was lost in her head, chasing the humiliation of their slipped secrets--her breath ragged. A soft whimper escaped as she rode him harder. Her hands roamed up her body, cupping her giant tits--olive skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat--squeezing them. Thumbs brushed her nipples, then pinched lightly, rolling them between her fingers as she gasped.

Jon stared, mesmerized--her curves a vision, tits bouncing with each slam. Her flat stomach rippled as she moved. He felt like the luckiest bastard alive, his mind flicking to her anal confession. Who wouldn't fuck an ass belonging to a girl like her, if she offered? he thought, cock twitching inside her. His hand slid forward, fingers brushing her pussy--finding her clit, engorged and throbbing, a hard, pea-sized knot at the top of her slit, more swollen than he'd ever felt. He rubbed it--firm, circling strokes--and she moaned loud, head tipping back, but winced. Her voice trembled.

"Ohhh, I'm so sensitive--it's too much," she said. "I don't want to cum yet. Just touch me... everywhere."

He obeyed, hands leaving her clit, sliding up to cover hers on her breasts--squeezing hard. Her soft flesh spilled between his fingers. She groaned, arching into it, and he traced her curves down--hands gliding over her ribs, her waist, to her ass. He gripped her cheeks, kneading them--firm, possessive squeezes that drew deeper moans from her throat. Emboldened, he slid a hand back, fingertip brushing her asshole--tight, puckered, warm. She went wild--hips bucking faster, a high-pitched whine escaping as she slammed down harder.

An idea sparked--he'd been too timid for dirty talk, but last night's blur proved he could, from what he was told. Her kink flared in his mind, and he growled, voice rough.

"If you don't want me to throw your skis down the slope, you better lube up my finger with your mouth before I stick it back in your ass," he said.

His fingertip popped free--slick with her heat--and brought it to her lips. Her eyes stayed clenched shut, but something ignited as she opened her mouth--sucking it feverishly. Lips wrapped tight, tongue swirling, a hungry little moan vibrated against his skin. He groaned, pulling it free with a wet pop, and slid it back down--pressing it to her asshole, pushing slow. The experienced ring yielded, swallowing his finger to the first knuckle as she slammed onto his cock--her moan loud, continuous, echoing off the walls. She shifted, sliding forward and back now--her stomach rolling like a belly dancer's, abs flexing in waves. His finger sank deeper, past the second knuckle. He felt his cock through her thin inner wall--hard, pulsing, stretching her pussy as she rode him, the dual sensation mind-blowing.

She collapsed forward, tits pressing into his chest, her breath a mix of moans and near-sobs--hot, desperate, one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen. Her hair spilled over his face, damp with sweat, her lips grazing his jaw as she went limp. After a shaky pause, she whispered.

"Did you cum?" she asked.

He shook his head, voice soft.

"Not yet--Adderall makes it harder sometimes," he said. "Sorry."

She lifted her head, smiling sweet, her cheeks flushed.

"You're cute--no need to apologize," she said. "I just gotta up my game."

She dipped low, lips brushing his ear. Slowly a soft moan began, breathy, as she resumed the movements of her hips. His cock shifted inside her, stirring her slick walls.

"Ohhh," she purred, voice dripping with lust, "I bet those boys are fighting for the bathroom back at their hotel... uhhh, eager to pull up those pics of my ass to jerk off to.... Ohh, there were so many--hundreds, even videos. They got my face and all."

Her tongue flicked his earlobe, hot and wet.

"Him fingering my ass... ohhh, then bringing it to my mouth... me bright red, sucking it eagerly as they kept taking pics... does that turn you on?" she asked.

Jon's breath hitched, cock surging inside her.

"Oh my God, uh, yeah--keep going, don't stop," he said.

She fucked him harder--hips snapping, pussy clenching tight--sucking his earlobe now. Her breath was heavy and ragged between words.

"And how wet I was--captured in HD close-ups--as he swirled his finger in my asshole," she said. "I wanted to touch myself so bad... didn't know if I'd find a hard, leaking cock in your pants yet."

Her voice trembled, teasing, stoking the fire in his gut--her exposure, his helplessness, their kinks colliding.

"Jesus, babe--oh, keep going, I'm almost there," he gasped, hands gripping her hips.

She turned it up, lips at his ear again, words spilling fast and filthy.

"I wish they hadn't been so tame," she said. "I was hoping I'd be forced to at least suck a cock for you... maybe even take another from behind... ohhh, maybe just in my ass... uhhh, that I'd save... mmmm, keep it just for others... who had the balls to take it."

Her pussy clenched hard from her own words--walls spasming around him--and he lost it. His hips thrust up, sharp and sudden, lifting her an inch off his waist--her gasp loud as he pulled back and thrust again, catching her descent. Their bodies slapped together--fast, wet, a barrage of flesh-on-flesh as he came. Hot spurts flooded her pussy, her own orgasm crashing through, her moans peaking into a wail.

Sweaty, breathless, they lay still--his cock softening inside her, her chest heaving against his. Silence stretched, waiting for the other to speak first, then laughter bubbled up--shared, giddy.

"Wow," she said, "this is getting good quick."

Jon grinned, dazed.

"God, I've never cum in you before--that was so good," he said. "I've never felt that."

She propped up on an elbow, peering down with a mischievous glint, savoring the squirm to come.

"Was it my pussy--or my words?" she asked.

He turned red, glancing away briefly--then met her eyes, smirking.

"Yeah, and for you--was it my dick or my finger in your ass?" he said.

She buried her face in the pillow, smiling wide, then popped up, laughing.

"Touché," she said. "Now let's shower, get ready, and have a great night."