I wake up in the morning by myself, the doors open to the balcony and the shower running in the bathroom. I roll onto my back and rub my face, groaning when my dick pushes against the sheet. Fuuuuck. Of course I have morning wood. It’s not like I fucked Chanel a matter of hours ago when she woke me up with my dick in her mouth. I open my eyes and look around our room. I can’t believe we’re actually here. I wasn’t sure if she’d be up for something like this; I almost backed out of the whole thing more than a few times. The day before we left though, she seemed almost eager to be in contact with me, and the way she fucked me that night made me a bit more confident about asking her. I think I need to stop doubting her willingness to do things I want to suggest. Whenever we’re together, whatever we’re doing, Chanel participates with sincerity. I sit up, willing my hard on away, and debate walking into the bathroom sans clothes or to cover up. It’s not like she hasn’t seen me naked..but I’ve been careful so far about keeping things as casual as possible when we’re not fucking each other and she hasn’t been scared off by me yet. I yank on my jeans from yesterday before I push open the cracked bathroom door. Steam billows from the shower and I can see Chanel’s form through the distorted glass, making me throb in my pants. “Morning,” I say, grabbing my tooth brush. She turns off the shower and replies, “Good morning,” in her soft, sweet voice. I put toothpaste on my brush trying to turn my thoughts away from how naked she is right now. “How’d you sleep?” she asks me and I turn to face her. Her stunning blue eyes, dark hair dripping over her naked shoulder, perfect body wrapped in a fluffy white towel. Images of her last night fill my head and I smirk at her. “Not bad at all,” I reply, and she gives me a sheepish smile. Yeah, you’re a fucking vixen and you know it. “I’ll give you some privacy,” she says and turns for the door, shutting it with her exit. I sigh and shove my toothbrush in my mouth. I start the shower again for myself, trying to think about anything but her in that fucking towel. To be around her is a very difficult, yet very easy thing to do for me. Difficult because anytime I look at her in anything she’s wearing; I think about fucking her. Which is a pain in the ass when I can’t be inside her. And hiding my wood is never a fun thing. But it’s also easy because she’s hands down one of the coolest girls I’ve ever known. She’s honest and funny and apparently up for whatever outrageous suggestions I make. She drinks with me, smokes with me, her down-to-earth personality makes her even more attractive, not that she can’t attract people with her mouth closed. Chanel’s bursa escort looks are perfection. She’s the epitome of the hourglass figure, her silhouette enough to bring me to my knees. Her perky breasts above her tiny little waist fit perfectly in my hands, her flawless ass chiseled by God, Himself. From the moment I saw every inch of her skin, I couldn’t help but compare every woman’s looks to her. Even my ex-wife. From her adorable feet up to her beautifully structured face, her arched eyebrows above her deep blue eyes, soft pouty lips that reveal the neatest of white teeth. Fuck, I hope I don’t get blue balls. There’s no way I could jack it right now. It would take way too fucking long. I turn the knob towards the blue and let the cold water have it’s way. Eventually we make it out of the room, and I feel like the luckiest mother fucker on this island. Chanel’s smooth, naked back is visible in her little white backless dress held up by thin straps. Her tan, shapely legs are on display from the thigh down as her dainty feet balance on little wedge sandals. She’s so natural, I love it, her dark hair swirling around her face. Every greedy bastard we’ve passed has been generously taking eyefuls of her. This is one of those times I’d love to wrap my hands around her little fucking waist and smile at every one of ‘em. But I don’t, keeping a few inches distance from her as we walk. I know what happened last night, and I know she’ll come back to me for more. We get breakfast and start wandering through the best part of the island to shop for clothes. Chanel finds –and models for me, much to her amusement– two new bikinis. I make her try on a white long sleeved rashguard as well. It’s skin tight, and with her long wavy hair draped around her shoulders, she’s every surfer’s dream. I grab her items, a new pair of board shorts and a rashguard for myself, and talk her into letting me purchase them. This was only after I agreed to let her repay me later. More like make it up to me; as I don’t want her money. We get back to the hotel, change into our new shit and pack anything we might need for the beach. Chanel asks me to help rub sunscreen on her back before we go and I take the opportunity to massage her a little. She loves that shit. I’m thinking her sweet spot is both thumbs under each shoulder blade, close to the spine. Always a reaction when I touch her there. The beach is only a couple blocks away, and while we walk, we prattle on about what we’ve seen of San Juan, what we like and how different it is than America. We both agree the locals are usually nice with what little english they know. We find a semi-crowded beach and I pull off my shirt bursa escort bayan as she lays out a towel. “The extent of my spanish is what’s left over after middle school classes,” Chanel laughs while tugging down her white dress. Her dark waves fall around her already sun-kissed shoulders, every inch of her exposed skin smooth and perfect. Chanel’s supple tits and ass are contained by a simple black bikini, the fabric frilling around the edges. She belongs on a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit cover as she sits next to me on the sand. “And that was a while ago,” she says, looking over at me. I snap my open mouth shut, trying not to gawk like a total fucking pervert. “So I don’t really remember much,” she finishes, smiling at me. Caught. Smooth Ethan. “I know how to swear at someone is spanish, though that’s not very helpful here,” I reply, looking where the endless blue meets the powder white sand. “That may come in handy,” she says with encouragement, obviously trying to be funny. “You’re right. Between you wearing that and the abundance of whiskey consumed on this island, I may need to use what I know,” I tease her and she laughs. “I got this because you liked it,” she claims and leans back on her hands, her knees bent in front of her. “You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking?” I ask and tug on my thick hair. “Well, what would you like me to do?” she asks, tilting her head to look at me. “You’ll do whatever I want?” I ask facetiously, and she smiles widely. “Sure,” she says, playing along. “Hmmm… I think I’ll hold onto this favor until later,” I say, and she laughs. “Oh yeah?” “Yep. Raincheck,” I reply, and she shakes her head. “Just keep the punishment in the same ballpark,” Chanel says and starts pushing her toes into the sand. I smile internally. If she knew the kinds of punishment I’d like to explore with her, she’d probably slap me. I’m fairly certain I would do a lot of things with this woman. Many… many naughty things. Chanel gets in the water before me, walking through the waves lapping at the shore. I discreetly pull out my phone and when she looks at me I tell her to smile. She doesn’t hesitate to grin at the camera, my phone producing a vivid replica of the perfection standing before me. She seriously looks so incredible, a couple of girls walk up to her and ask to get a picture with her. Chanel blushes and asks if they’re serious. The two girls have to be in their early twenties, college kids probably. They compliment her until she agrees and Chanel offers I take it for them. I jump up to help and they all grin, the blonde one eyeing my bare chest as Chanel stands between them, her arms draped over their shoulders. I snap escort bursa a few pictures, their tight bodies wrapped in little swimming suits press together as they stand closely. Fuck yes. Another girl hollering and laughing comes running towards us and jumps next to blondie. “I need to be in this too!” she exclaims, evidently a friend of the other girls. She’s much shorter than the other three and stands in front striking a pose so I take a few more, laughing internally about how crazy this is. Total strangers acting like Chanel’s a famous model or something. People do come to this beach to see and be seen, though. A larger group of people a short ways down the beach are yelling at our new friends. A guy in green board shorts walks up to join us as all the girls are saying thank you and I hand back their phone. “Isn’t she beautiful?” the brunette asks green board shorts. His eyes rake over Chanel and he nods. “Sorry about them.” He smiles at her, referring to his outgoing friends. “It’s fine, I’m flattered.” Chanel smiles. “What’s your name?” the brunette asks her. “Chanel,” she replies and they shake hands. The brunette is Tawni, the blonde is Megan, shorty is Amanda and green board shorts is Ryan. “This is Ethan,” Chanel says introducing me and Ryan’s eyes finally leave her. “Nice to meet you,” he says, smiling at me. I keep my expression friendly as I shake his hand, but really I’d rather deck him, simply due to his similar taste in women. “You too,” I reply. “Do you guys wanna skimboard?” Ryan asks us, and the girls squeal, saying we should join them. Already a few more people from their larger group are riding boards toward us along the shoreline. We meet a grip of people, all around our age, and there’s never a shortage of conversation. People asking us where we’re from, if we want a beer, have we tried this bar or restaurant yet or telling us about their own vacation. When Megan asks us if we’re a couple, Chanel’s eyes flash to me, smiles spreading on our faces. I don’t say anything, figuring she’d answer that however she wants, but she doesn’t talk either. Everyone who’s listening bursts into laughter when we don’t speak, making jokes about our undisclosed relationship. Eventually someone hands me a small board asking if I want to try. “I haven’t done this in years,” I warn and walk to the edge of the water. They egg me on, the owner of the board, Tommy, telling me the best way to get a good stance on it. I toss the board so it floats along the shallow water and run to jump on the hydroplaning wood. I glide along the edge of the beach, one foot in front of the other as the sun beats down on my shoulders. I get a good distance, too, before I jump off the front to avoid eating sand. I pick it up, toss the board again and ride it back. When I get back to Tommy, I find Chanel’s bright blue eyes watching me. I wink at her, and she walks towards me. “Do you want to give it a go?” Tommy asks Chanel when she approaches us.