The pool

The heat hit them as soon as they stepped out onto the terrace. The pool glimmered under the morning sun, already crowded with bodies stretched on loungers, inflatable toys drifting lazily across the blue. The air carried sunscreen, sweat, and fried food from the bar.

Mark was easy to spot, he had claimed three loungers near the pool’s edge, towels neatly laid, drinks already waiting. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but the tilt of his head as Emma and Maggie approached gave him away.

Emma dropped her robe without hesitation, her bikini a deliberate insult to modesty. The top was little more than triangles, her nipples hard against the fabric. The bottoms were cut so low the shaved line of her mound peeked out whenever she moved.

Maggie hesitated, robe still clutched tight. Her heart thundered as she caught the stares. Men in the pool glanced up, a group of lads at the bar nudged each other. Their eyes were hungry, unapologetic.

Emma leaned close, her voice velvet but sharp. “You’re not covering yourself all day. Off.”

Maggie’s throat worked, but she obeyed. She untied the robe and let it fall. Gasps weren’t audible, but she felt them. The yellow suit glowed in the sun, thin as tissue, clinging to every curve. Her nipples punched through, swollen and dark. The new strip of hair above her cunt was a blatant shadow under the fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Mark shifted on his lounger, adjusting himself. Even behind the sunglasses, Maggie felt his stare crawl across her skin. His cock pressed hard against his shorts, the fabric doing nothing to hide him.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Emma smiled wickedly, guiding Maggie down onto the lounger beside her. “Told you she belonged with us.”

Maggie fumbled for her drink, **** for something to hold. Her cheeks burned, but her body betrayed her, nipples tingling in the heat, her clit throbbing against the stretched fabric. Every time she moved, the suit rode tighter, cutting against her slit until she squirmed.

Emma sprawled back, breasts gleaming with oil. She reached for Maggie’s thigh, squeezing gently, her voice pitched just for her. “Relax. Let them look. That’s why we’re here.”

Maggie’s breath stuttered. She dared a glance around. A man on an inflatable bed was staring openly. Another leaned on the pool edge, pretending to chat with a friend while his gaze lingered on her tits.

Emma smirked. “Good girl. Now into the pool. Let’s see how that pretty suit looks when it’s wet.”

Maggie froze. “Emma, no—”

“Yes,” Emma whispered, tugging her hand. “You’ll thank me.”

Mark leaned forward, grin sharp. “I think we all will.”

The steps into the pool were slick beneath her feet. The water lapped at her calves, her thighs, her waist. And then—

Cold fabric clung to her, sucking against her breasts, her cunt, turning transparent in an instant. Her nipples were obscene now, jutting through sheer yellow, the neat strip of pubic hair a dark arrow pointing down to where the fabric split across her swollen slit. Every curve, every secret, exposed.

A ripple of silence passed over the nearby swimmers. Then laughter, whistles, a muttered “fuckin’ hell” from somewhere behind her.

Maggie’s face flamed. She covered herself with her hands instinctively—but Emma caught her wrists, pulling them away.

“No hiding.” Emma’s eyes blazed with triumph. “Let them see.”

Maggie’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her thighs trembling under the water. A group of lads had moved closer, splashing, pretending to play but watching her every move. One swam beneath, surfacing right at her hip, his grin wolfish.

Emma pressed closer, voice low and filthy in her ear. “They’re staring at your nipples. At your wet little cunt. And you love it.”

Maggie whimpered, but she didn’t move away. Her body betrayed he, the pressure of the water, the teasing scrape of fabric, the raw thrill of eyes on her. Her clit throbbed harder, ****, shameless.

Mark stood at the pool’s edge, towel slung over his shoulder. His cock was a thick, obvious ridge in his shorts. He said nothing, just watched, sunglasses unable to mask the hunger in his stance.

Emma kissed Maggie’s shoulder, tongue flicking the wet skin. “Next time,” she whispered, “I’ll make you spread your legs. Let them all see exactly what’s yours.”

Maggie moaned softly into her hand.

And around them, the pool buzzed with heat, eyes fixed on the trembling woman in yellow, her shame turning slowly into something darker, dirtier, unstoppable.