Vacation To Remember

I was at a five-star resort in Jamaica with two of my friends, celebrating the fresh freedom of one friend's divorce. Nothing but sun, ocean, drinks, and the kind of vibe where anything could happen. Our villa was right next to a huge one occupied by a wealthy Indian family -- husband, wife, and two daughters.

The family kept to themselves at first. Polite, polished, obviously loaded. But over the next day or two, we started to cross paths -- at the pool, in the lounge, on a scuba excursion organized by the resort. That's when we really got a proper look at the women.

And damn.

Malika, the step-mom, was easily mid-40s but moved like she was ten years younger. She was elegant -- toned and poised, with soft brown skin, warm hazel eyes, and a graceful presence that made her stand out even among much younger women. Her two stepdaughters, Tasha and Dani, were college-aged and each stunning in her own way. Tasha, the older one, was slim and athletic, the kind of girl who'd mastered the art of subtle seduction. Dani, on the other hand, was curvier -- full hips, large natural breasts, and a flirty smile that practically invited trouble.

They told us later that Dani's 21st birthday was the next day -- a little detail that explained why she was throwing glances my way every chance she got.

The Water

During the scuba excursion, I was paired with Tasha. As we adjusted our gear and slid into the warm sea, I already felt the tension building.

She floated beside me, her toned body wrapped in a sleek black bikini that hugged her high hips and sculpted ass. Her legs brushed mine more than once as we swam, and each touch lingered just a beat longer than it should've.

"You know," she said at one point, adjusting her mask, "Dani was hoping she'd be paired with you."

"Oh yeah?"

"She has a thing for guys like you. Especially ones built like you."

I chuckled. "She's cute. But I thought she wasn't 21 yet."

"Tomorrow," Tasha said, glancing at me sideways. "So you're safe."

She grinned and swam ahead. The sun filtered down through the water, playing across her smooth, brown back. Her bikini bottoms hugged her like a second skin -- revealing just enough of that tight, athletic ass to make me shift slightly in the water.

We floated deeper into one of the reef tunnels -- quiet, darker, more private. I swam up beside her just as she slowed.

"Watch for eels," she whispered. "That's what the guide said."

"Already found one," I murmured.

Her eyes flicked down to the front of my swim shorts, where the warm water had started to work its magic. When I shifted, adjusting myself, the thick outline of my cock pressed clearly through the wet fabric.

Tasha's eyes widened slightly. Her voice dropped, amused and impressed. "Well... that explains Dani's interest."

"I thought you were the lucky one," I said.

"Oh, I am." Her voice had that dangerous softness now. "But if Dani finds out what you're working with, she might fight me for you."

Then, smoothly, she dipped underwater. Her hand brushed my thigh as she swam a slow circle beneath me. When she resurfaced, she was only inches away, her body close, her breath quick.

"You're trouble," I said.

She just smiled. "Only if you ask nicely."

Then she flipped and swam ahead, her hips swaying even in the water.

The Party Begins

That night, we told the family to meet us at a bar we'd scoped out -- part tourist trap, part locals' gem. Dim lights, strong drinks, and the kind of music that made hips move involuntarily.

We got there early to set it up: bottle service, a birthday banner with Dani's name in gold letters, and just enough spotlight to make the moment feel special.

I dressed light -- gray shorts with a matching open button-up shirt, no undershirt, no underwear. The fabric was soft, breathable, and when the breeze caught it just right, the outline of my cock pressed clearly through the front. I wasn't trying to be subtle. I knew the effect -- and so would they.

When they arrived, heads turned.

Dani led the way, full of birthday energy. She wore a short silk halter dress, deep crimson, that barely contained her full breasts. The neckline plunged low enough to make breathing optional. The midsection was sheer, offering a full view of her smooth, toned stomach -- and the silver belly button ring glinting in the light. Her legs looked impossibly long in heels, and her walk was pure performance.

Tasha followed, all curves and control. She wore a black tube top that clung to her chest and left her toned midsection fully exposed. Her pants were low-rise and skintight, hugging her hips just above indecency. Every step made the waistband ride a little lower -- daring anyone to guess how close she was to showing everything. Her look was sleek, confident, and sharp as hell.

And Malika? She didn't walk -- she glided.

She wore a white two-piece outfit -- a fitted, cropped buttoned top with thin straps that framed her collarbones and left her midsection exposed. Her skin was smooth, golden under the lights, her abs subtly defined. The matching skirt was high-slit and hugged her hips like it was made for her alone. Every step revealed just enough of her thigh to keep attention locked on her. She wasn't dressing young -- she was dressing powerful.

Dani wrapped her arms around me tightly, pressing those bare, full breasts against my chest, her fingers drifting low on my back as she lingered under my open shirt.

Tasha stepped up and gave me a slower hug, her arms slinking around my waist, her hip brushing the front of my shorts -- right where the outline left nothing to the imagination.

"Nice shorts," she murmured, lips brushing my ear. "Very... bold."

And Malika? Her embrace was warm but measured -- one hand on my shoulder, the other at my waist, her fingers resting for a second just above where the imprint of my cock pushed clear against the fabric. She didn't comment -- just met my eyes, then let go, turning with a faint, knowing smirk.

The First Shots

We lined up at the bar for a round of celebratory shots -- the whole family. Dani in the middle, me and Tasha on either side, Malika next to her husband.

"To new beginnings," I said, raising my glass.

"To freedom," Malika added, raising an eyebrow that only I caught.

We downed them -- and as soon as the glass hit the counter, Tasha's hand slid across my back, then lower, her fingers tracing the line of my waistband before cupping me firmly through my shorts.

The squeeze was quick, discreet, but definitely intentional.

She kept her eyes on her sister as she did it, playing it cool, then whispered something in Dani's ear while giving me a second squeeze -- this one firmer.

I stayed still, a small smirk curling on my lips.

Meanwhile, Dani was already asking for another round. But her father wasn't feeling it.

"I'm calling it," he said flatly, rubbing his temple. "Too loud. Too much."

Malika's smile faltered for a second. "It's her birthday," she said gently.

"I'm tired," he snapped. "You stay if you want."

And just like that, he was gone.

Malika stood still for a long beat, then turned and took a fresh drink from my friend, who'd been watching the whole scene unfold.

"I'm not letting him ruin my night," she said with fire in her voice. She clinked her glass against his. "Let's dance."

Malika Unwinds

They moved to the floor -- not far, but just enough into the shadows. The music had slowed, deepened. Something with bass. Something sensual.

Malika's back pressed into my friend's chest. Her hips began to roll, slow and confident. Her skirt fluttered with every sway, then clung again -- caught in the heat rising around them.

She reached down, took his hand, and guided it between the slit in her skirt. His fingers disappeared beneath the fabric, up her thigh, to wherever she wanted him. Her other hand slid under her top, raising it slowly until her toned stomach gleamed in the low light.

And she did it all while facing my direction.

Her eyes never quite met mine, but she knew.

She knew I was watching.

Bar Stage

Back up top, Dani turned toward me, flushed from drink and excitement.

"HEY!" she shouted. "It's MY BIRTHDAY."

She reached for my hand and tugged hard. "You're coming up here with me."

She climbed up onto the bar like she owned it, and I followed. The crowd roared as the music surged again.

The bartender lined up shots. Dani handed me one, her fingers brushing mine, then licked the salt off her hand slowly, teasingly. She tossed the drink back, her tongue chasing the lime.

"You like the view from up here?" she teased, grinding playfully against me.

I smiled, but my eyes drifted again -- down to the dance floor.

Malika was deeper in the shadows now, her hips moving in perfect sync with my buddy's hands. Her top had ridden even higher, and her eyes were closed, head resting back against his shoulder. Her skirt still hid just enough to be decent -- but barely.

I could feel the electricity crawling over my skin.

Between the daughters on the bar, the mother grinding in the dark, and the heat in the air, I knew one thing for sure:

This night wasn't even close to over.

The music had picked up, fast and sultry, and Dani was absolutely thriving in it.

She danced on the bar like she owned the place, hips rolling, arms raised, her silk halter dress catching every flash of light. The crowd below roared their approval, phones up, whistles flying. The dress clung to her body as she moved, barely containing her generous breasts. Each shimmy threatened a wardrobe malfunction, but she didn't care -- and neither did anyone watching.

Her belly button ring glinted every time she twisted, the sheer middle panel of her dress showing off her flat stomach in a way that left nothing to the imagination. Her eyes found mine now and then, playful and charged, daring me to join her.

I stayed where I was, standing confidently on the bar next to her -- shirt open, sweat starting to glisten across my abs. The fabric of my gray shorts still clung to the imprint of my cock, and judging by the way Dani kept glancing down at it mid-dance, she was well aware.

But as wild as the energy was up here, my eyes kept drifting downward -- past the edge of the bar, over the crowd, to the darker edges of the floor where the lights didn't reach.

Tasha was still on the ground, trying to keep an eye on her sister. Her arms were crossed now, jaw set, head turning every few seconds between Dani and somewhere deeper into the crowd -- looking for someone else.

Her step-mother.

But she couldn't see what I could see.

My eyes stayed locked on the shadowy corner.

Malika had shifted again -- now facing me.

Her back was pressed to my friend's chest, her hips grinding slowly into his as he leaned against the wall. Her arms stretched back to loop behind his neck, but her head turned just slightly -- not to him.

To the room.

To me.

The white top clung to her, damp now from sweat, the fabric rising and falling with her breath. Then, with a quiet, commanding movement, she took his hands and brought them around her waist -- up to her chest.

And with her back still to him -- and her eyes barely flicking in my direction -- she guided his fingers to the front buttons of her top.

Facing me.

One by one, she had him unfasten the buttons. Her hands moved over his, slow and sure, her expression calm, composed -- and undeniably seductive. Each pop of a button loosened the fabric further, until the top began to part in the middle.

The glistening line of her sternum appeared first. Then the soft swell of one breast. Then both -- completely bare in the low lighting, her nipples firm, her chest rising slowly as she exhaled. Her skin gleamed. Her posture never broke.

She never looked away.

She didn't speak. She didn't need to. The reveal was deliberate -- and it was for me.

Malika was still facing me, her top now hanging open completely, her bare chest glistening with sweat, rising with each deep breath. Her hands had just guided his down the front of her skirt, and his fingers were now moving slowly beneath the fabric. Her hips responded with gentle pulses -- not wild, not frantic -- just deliberate, as if drawing every sensation out longer than it had to last.

But then, suddenly, she stopped.

She pulled his hands out slowly, her body still angled toward me. And then -- with that same cool control -- she brought his fingers straight to her mouth.

She slid them between her lips, slowly, like she was tasting herself off him. Her tongue curled as she sucked lightly, sensually, and then she looked directly at me.

Not by accident.

A knowing, wicked smile curved across her lips.

And then she moved again -- taking his hand and disappearing with him into the crowd. They slipped behind a cluster of dancing bodies to a shadowed booth pressed against the wall. No one else was paying attention. No one else even noticed they were gone.

Except me.

She turned him and pushed him down into the booth's seat, still holding him by the hand like he was hers now -- not just for the night, but for the moment. Then, with the crowd still moving obliviously in front of them, Malika turned once more to face me.

From where I stood on the bar, I could see her clearly again.

Her shirt was still open, framing her bare chest without apology. She gave a last glance over her shoulder at my friend, then her hands moved behind her -- subtle but unmistakable -- and she lifted the back of her skirt.

I couldn't see everything... not yet.

But I saw his hands disappear behind her hips again, and his body sink deeper into the seat, lying back.

Then -- she climbed on top of him.

And started bouncing.

Slowly at first, her legs flexed with power and rhythm. Her skirt fluttered, her chest swayed freely, and she kept her eyes on me as she moved. The crowd just feet away stayed unaware, lost in music and alcohol, blind to the private show unfolding just behind them.

But I saw it.

She wanted me to.

Her eyes locked to mine, and then -- with a grin that was nothing short of sinful -- she reached down with both hands and opened the front of her skirt.

Fully.

From my angle, I could now see everything -- the curve of her thighs straddling him, the smooth brown skin glistening between them, the explicit wetness glinting as she moved. Her body rocked with purpose, dripping with arousal, completely unashamed.

Still watching me.

And I watched her.

All of her.

The bass pulsed through the soles of my feet as I stood tall on the bar, body hot, breath tight.

Dani had turned to face me, dancing just inches away -- hips rolling, eyes wild, her birthday energy fully unleashed. But my gaze had drifted past her, over her shoulder... to the booth behind the crowd.

Malika was still on my friend, her body bouncing, shirt open, skirt parted, hips moving with full intention. Her eyes stayed locked to mine -- a private show unfolding just for me.

And the sight of it?

It sent a surge straight through me.

My cock began to swell fast, pressing hard against the thin fabric of my gray shorts. With no underwear to hide it, the outline grew thick and obvious -- lengthening and stretching the front of my shorts until the base was visible, the shape clear and unmistakable.

And Dani saw it happen.

Her eyes dropped to my crotch, and her breath caught. Her lips parted slightly -- not in shock, but in awe. At her angle, just a few feet away, the fabric clung to me tightly enough that there was no mystery left. Her eyes lingered, soaking it in, and when she looked back up, she was fully lit from within.

She thought it was for her.

And in that moment, it might as well have been.

Dani turned to face the crowd, hips swinging with newfound electricity. The room responded immediately -- whistles, cheers, hands in the air.

She looked back at me again, caught sight of my abs under my open shirt, saw the way my cock now strained so hard against my shorts it looked ready to burst through, and it ignited her.

With a wild grin, she turned back to the crowd and yelled:

"BIRTHDAY GIRL SHOULD BE IN HER BIRTHDAY SUIT!"

The place exploded.

And in one smooth, theatrical motion, she grabbed the hem of her halter dress, leaned forward, and ripped it off over her head.

The red silk flew through the air and vanished somewhere in the crowd.

She was left in a tiny black thong -- and nothing else.

The thing barely counted as clothing. It was high-cut and nearly sheer, the waistband sitting high on her hips, the front just barely covering the essentials, the back a narrow strip swallowed between her cheeks. It hid nothing. It only enhanced everything.

And above that?

Her breasts were incredible.

Large, natural, round -- soft and full, jiggling with every slight movement. Her nipples were dark and firm, standing proudly in the cool air of the bar. Her stomach was tight, her skin glowing, her silver belly button ring glittering beneath the lights.

The crowd lost it.

But Dani?

She only looked at me.

Topless, hips rolling, thong hugging her curves, chest heaving -- she danced just feet away from me with a gaze that dared me to do something.

And below my waist, my cock was still growing.

Still pushing harder against my shorts.

Still completely visible.

And she loved it.

The crowd lost it.

But Dani?

She only looked at me.

Topless, hips rolling, thong hugging her curves, chest heaving -- she danced just feet away from me with a gaze that dared me to do something.

Then, her eyes began to wander.

She looked out at the crowd -- really looked -- and saw what was happening.

And what she saw turned her all the way on.

Everywhere she looked, eyes were locked on her -- wide, hungry, mesmerized. Phones frozen mid-record. Jaws slack. And then she started to notice more than just attention.

Men in the crowd shifting, subtly adjusting themselves. Trying to hide growing erections that were already too obvious. Women biting their lips, grabbing their friends' arms, unable to stop staring. The air was thick with heat -- and she was the center of it.

She could practically smell it -- the desire rolling off of them.

And she liked it. A lot.

Her chest swelled with a sharp inhale, and she arched her back just slightly, letting her large, bare breasts bounce with the rhythm of her dancing. Her nipples were hard, flush with adrenaline and arousal, and the strobe lights flashed across her skin like a spotlight she had completely claimed.

She wasn't just a birthday girl anymore. She was the flame, and the whole room was ready to burn.

She glanced back at me -- at my cock still thick and outlined against my shorts, at my abs glistening under my open shirt -- and her tongue flicked over her bottom lip.

Then she turned back to the crowd and danced harder, hips snapping, chest bouncing freely, her tiny thong leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

And the more they stared?

The more she fed off it.

Spotlight Shift

The crowd was still roaring from Dani's strip tease. Her large, natural breasts bounced freely with every twist and roll of her hips, her body glowing under the bar lights, the tiny black thong clinging to her in a way that showed more than it hid. Her silver belly ring sparkled as she spun, basking in the attention -- drunk on it.

But suddenly, the crowd's cheers turned into something else.

A different kind of reaction.

Tasha had jumped up onto the bar.

She reached for Dani's arm, tried to pull her behind her, instinctively trying to cover her chest with one arm.

"Dani, what the hell--" she shouted over the music.

The crowd turned quickly, a mix of boos and jeers. Tasha was blocking their view, disrupting their show. And Dani? She was clearly not amused.

"Seriously?" Dani snapped, yanking her arm away and stepping around her sister.

And that's when Tasha froze.

Her eyes swept the crowd, frustrated and overwhelmed... and then they landed on something that stopped her cold.

The back of the bar.

Malika. Her stepmother.

Tasha's jaw dropped slightly as she squinted, trying to process what she was seeing. Even from the bar, it was clear: Malika was straddling my friend in a shadowy booth. Her shirt was hanging open, her skirt bunched up, her body grinding down into his lap in slow, sensual rhythm. Her expression was wild, glowing, caught between pleasure and power.

Tasha's gaze snapped from Malika...

To me.

And that's when she saw it.

The full outline of my cock, pressed hard and heavy against my thin gray shorts, barely contained, stretching the fabric outward. The way I stood, above her, hips forward, made it impossible to miss. From her angle, she could see the base, thick and veined, straining right to the edge of exposure.

Her lips parted -- maybe in shock, maybe not.

And then the crowd shifted again.

Chants began to rise:

"Take it off! Take it off!"

Not at Dani now.

At Tasha.

Dani was behind her now, grinning, joining the chant herself. "Come on, big sis! Birthday girl doesn't share the stage!"

Tasha shook her head, playfully at first, her hand still half-up in protest -- but the spotlight, the energy, the pulsing music, the fevered eyes locked on her curves -- it all started to melt her hesitation. Her tube top hugged her chest, her sculpted stomach bare, the low-rise pants riding so low on her hips they were practically an invitation.

She looked at me again -- saw the way I was still watching her, still hard, still waiting -- and her face changed.

Her mood lifted. Something lit behind her eyes.

She looked incredible up there.

Conflicted. Tempted. Powerful.

I stepped behind her, slow and sure, letting my hands rest on her hips. She gasped -- not from surprise, but from heat. The contact. My body against hers. My cock firm behind her, brushing her lower back.

She reached back for me -- her fingers sliding up my neck, into my hair -- and then she paused.

Dani.

She looked over her shoulder, uncertain. But Dani? Dani wasn't even looking. She was facing the crowd again, flirting boldly with a group of men, some of whom were making no effort to hide their reactions. Dani was loving it -- arching her back, dancing slow, pretending not to notice how hard they were for her.

Satisfied her sister was very much in her own world, Tasha turned back to me.

And kissed me.

Hard.

The crowd lost it.

My hands moved instinctively, gripping her waist, then sliding up to cup her breast through the tube top. She moaned into my mouth, and her hands raked over my bare chest, abs slick with heat.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was a claim.

And Dani noticed.

Not angry. Just challenged.

She smirked, stepped back into the center of the bar, and raised her arms high, showing off her nearly-nude, glowing body like a goddess in front of her worshippers.

The spotlight snapped back to her.

She spun around, shaking her hips, then bent low -- giving the crowd a full view of her thong and the curve of her ass. She reached back slowly, teasing, gripping the waistband.

The crowd leaned forward.

She started to slide it down -- just an inch. Then two. The top of her cheeks peeked out. She held it there.

Teasing. In control. Loving every second.

She turned back around, arms up, chest out, breath heavy.

And the crowd?

Completely hers.

Dani Takes It Further

Dani stood dead center on the bar, her body glowing, her hands raised like a victorious queen. The crowd was completely hers -- eyes wide, mouths open, phones up but barely moving. Every person in that room, man and woman alike, was holding their breath.

Her large, bare breasts rose and fell with every inhale, her nipples flushed, sensitive from exposure. Her skin glistened with sweat, the light catching on the silver curve of her belly ring, and that tiny black thong still clinging to her hips -- though now barely hanging on.

She had just bent over, teasing the removal, and then stopped short -- giving the crowd a taste but denying them the climax. That almost was enough.

But now?

Now she wanted more.

Tasha and I were still wrapped up in each other just behind her. My hands gripped her hips, our kiss still warm, my cock still painfully hard against her lower back. But Dani turned slowly, looked over her shoulder at us, and smiled.

Not angry.

Not jealous.

Competitive.

She turned her body to face me again -- topless, her breasts bouncing slightly with each step on the bar. She closed the distance between us, hips swaying, eyes locked on mine.

Then -- she got bold.

Very bold.

Her hand slid down her own stomach, pausing at the waistband of her thong. The crowd held its breath. She hooked her thumbs beneath the sides and started to slide it down -- not an inch, but all the way to her thighs, then her knees. She bent deeply at the waist, keeping herself just covered, her ass lifted toward the crowd as she worked the thin fabric down her legs.

The audience lost its mind.

She was fully nude now, except for the heels still strapped to her feet -- and the way she held herself made it feel like armor, not vulnerability. She covered herself just barely at first, palms pressed against the front of her thighs, but then...

She stood tall again.

Uncovered. Unapologetic.

She turned to face the crowd full-on, arms up once more -- completely nude, her body on full display, glowing under the lights like a work of art. Her breasts bounced freely, full and proud, her legs long and strong, her skin slick and shimmering.

The crowd exploded. Cheers, chants, hands up, jaws dropped.

Dani drank it in.

She raised her arms even higher and twirled slowly, hips swinging, body twisting, showing every inch of herself to the room. When she faced me again, her eyes sparkled with hunger.

Dani Takes Control

As the chants and cheers roared around her, Dani stood tall and proud, nude except for her heels, her body a glowing sculpture of curves, confidence, and control.

The music thumped beneath us, the lights flashed over her glistening skin, and every eye in the room was on her. She was fully in command -- not just of the crowd, but of herself.

She turned back to me, smiling -- but it wasn't desire in her eyes.

It was something else.

Freedom. Playfulness. Celebration.

She gave Tasha a once-over, then let her eyes slide between the two of us -- my hands still on Tasha's hips, her body tucked against mine, the heat between us obvious.

Dani tilted her head, amused.

"You two make a cute couple," she said, her voice light but bold. "But I only turn twenty-one once..."

She gave a devilish grin, spinning back to the crowd like a performer stepping off stage and into the audience.

"So why celebrate with just one cock?"

The crowd lost it.

Dani's eyes locked on a group of men near the edge of the dance floor -- the same ones she'd been teasing earlier. They were all watching her with open mouths and undeniable hunger. She didn't hesitate.

She jumped down from the bar and landed in the arms of one of them, throwing her legs around his waist and laughing into his neck.

Before anyone could catch their breath, she leaned in and kissed him -- full and hot, her arms tight around his shoulders. His hands slid instinctively down to her bare ass, gripping with awe.

Then she reached back, grabbed his friend -- the one who'd been closest, eyes glued to her body all night -- and pulled him in against her backside, sandwiching herself between them, fully naked and fully alive.

The crowd went absolutely wild.

Hands reached for her -- some to cheer, some to touch. She basked in it, hips grinding between the two men, her mouth on one, her ass pressed to the other. It was chaos, electricity, desire personified.

Dani was completely swallowed by the moment.

Not lost -- in control.

She threw her head back and laughed, eyes closed, arms up, letting the crowd carry her energy higher, louder, wilder. She wasn't part of the audience anymore.

She was the show.

And she loved it.

Tasha's Turn

Tasha leaned forward instinctively, her eyes scanning the floor as the music pounded through the bar.

"Is she okay?" she asked, just under her breath.

I tightened my grip on her waist and pulled her back into me, lips brushing close to her ear.

"If anything, they're the ones in danger," I whispered.

She paused, her breath catching.

We both looked out beyond the lights, over the crowd, to the knot of bodies where Dani had vanished. A circle of men had formed, all watching with stunned intensity. Most of them were shirtless now -- several with their pants dropped to their thighs, asses bare, hands clenched in hair or gripping shoulders. Between them, we caught fleeting glimpses of Dani's naked form, moving low, her silhouette working at a fevered pace on her knees.

The men weren't celebrating her -- they were worshipping her.

Tasha exhaled, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan, eyes wide but undeniably charged.

But not everyone was watching Dani.

A large portion of the crowd was still focused on us. On the bar. On Tasha.

Chants had started again, rolling like waves through the music.

"Take it off! Take it off!"

Tasha looked out at them, her expression caught between disbelief and raw excitement. She shook her head lightly at first, but then her eyes flicked back to me.

And her smile changed.

Wicked.

Without a word, she raised her arms -- slowly, deliberately -- and swept them behind her head, locking her elbows and arching her back just slightly.

She draped her arms over my shoulders, lifting her chest proudly, her tight black tube top stretched high across her breasts, her bare stomach flexing with anticipation.

She didn't say it.

She didn't need to.

She offered herself.

And I took the invitation.

My hands moved to the hem of her top -- slow, confident -- and I peeled it upward, inch by inch, revealing the underside of her breasts, the slope of soft brown skin, the curve of her ribs. As I lifted it over her chest, the crowd saw her bare breasts spring free, round and high, nipples already hardened from the heat and pressure of the moment.

The room erupted.

The sound hit us like a wave -- cheering, yelling, raw hunger -- and Tasha threw her head back, arms still behind my neck, chest thrust forward, completely on display.

Confident. Bold. Lit from within.

Her skin glowed, her curves glistened, and she was suddenly something new -- not just a girl in the crowd, not just Dani's sister.

A goddess in her own right.

(First Person)

The crowd was roaring around us, but I barely heard them. My entire focus was on Tasha -- standing in front of me on the bar, topless, glowing under the lights, her skin slick with sweat and confidence.

Her chest rose and fell with every breath, breasts bare and proud, nipples hard and flushed. She had her arms behind her head, elbows back, arching her body like she was being worshipped -- and honestly, she was. Every camera in the crowd was pointed straight at her.

And she was feeding off it.

I stood behind her, one hand on her hip, the other grazing along the curve of her lower back. I could feel the heat of her skin, the tension in her spine, the way her body responded just from my presence.

She turned her head slightly, gave me that look -- playful, wicked, dangerous -- and then shifted to face the crowd again.

That's when her hands slid down.

Slow, confident, teasing.

They reached her waistband, and my eyes followed her every movement. She hooked her thumbs just inside, dipped her hips, and started to peel the pants down.

The fabric clung to her hips, then slowly rolled over the soft swell of her ass. The crowd surged, some yelling, some too stunned to speak. Her movements were deliberate, methodical, like she was savoring every second of it -- and so was everyone watching.

When she stepped out of them, the crowd gasped.

They couldn't see anything clearly -- not yet.

But they knew.

Everyone knew.

I could see the top of her hips, bare and flawless, and the smooth curve of her backside. No lines. No straps. Just skin.

Tasha turned to face me again, nothing left between us now.

Her eyes locked with mine, chest rising, lips parted. She looked like she was about to say something, but instead, she just stepped into me. Her bare chest pressed into mine. I felt every inch of her skin. Every curve. Every breath.

My cock pulsed hard against the inside of my shorts.

She reached up, slid her fingers over my shoulders, then ran her hands slowly down my chest, over the sweat-slicked muscle. She stopped at my waistband.

"You going to give them a show," she said, voice low, "or just me?"

My answer was in the way I grabbed her again, lifting her onto my thigh, kissing her shoulder, my hands sliding just under the edge of her bare hips. She shivered -- not from cold. From fire.

And when she turned back to the crowd again, throwing her hands in the air, I stayed pressed behind her, lips at her neck, ready for her next move.

She was everything in that moment.

Nude in confidence.

Wild in control.

And completely, unapologetically mine -- even if just for now.

Tasha's hand stayed on me a second longer, fingers still curled around the thick shape of my cock through my shorts. Her eyes locked on mine, and I saw the exact moment she made the crowd wait -- and beg -- for something she was never going to give them.

She leaned in like she was going to wrap her mouth around me -- right there in the open -- but at the last second, she paused, smiled, and wagged her finger with a teasing little hum.

"Public show's over."

The crowd gave a collective groan, some playful boos, others clapping in appreciation -- but she had them. And me.

She slid off the bar, barefoot, still glowing from sweat and heat, and pulled me by the hand down through the crowd.

That's when the shift hit.

The further we pushed toward the back, the heavier the air got. The music throbbed deep in the floorboards. The scent of skin, perfume, and pure heat flooded my lungs. We weren't just walking through a party anymore.

We were slipping into something primal.

I didn't see everything. But what I did see lit something wild behind my ribs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a figure high above the crowd -- legs spread, arms stretched back, head thrown in ecstasy. Dani. Her body was slick and glowing, hair wild, and her breasts bounced rhythmically as a group of men worshipped her with their mouths, hands, and hips.

She looked like a goddess in motion -- elevated, exalted -- unapologetically alive in every way. And judging by the looks on their faces, they were lucky just to be part of her orbit.

Tasha didn't turn to look. She didn't need to.

But I couldn't help noticing another figure along the wall -- Malika.

She was against a brick wall near the edge of the crowd, body lit in a sliver of red and shadow. Her dark hair clung to her face and chest in damp strands. Her skin gleamed -- flushed and dewy, her curves on full display. Her arms were slack, her head tilted back in something between surrender and bliss.

Her mouth was parted. Her eyes heavy.

And her skin... her skin was marked by more than sweat.

There was a wet sheen across her chest, her stomach, even her face -- evidence of what she'd given, what she'd taken, and how many hands and mouths had touched her tonight. The light caught on it in flashes, turning her into a wild, glistening vision of indulgence.

When her eyes found mine through the blur of bodies, they lit up.

She smiled.

Then, slow and unhurried, blew me a kiss -- not shy, not ashamed -- before letting her head fall back against the wall, her body still rocking slightly to whatever rhythm she was riding.

And then she disappeared behind someone else's silhouette.

That was the last thing I saw before Tasha pulled me past the curtain.

The room swallowed us. The music dulled.

And it was just the two of us again.