"The fading light glows orange on the water's surface while my shift is coming to an end and I'm preparing to go home.
My gaze drifted toward the pool – empty, or so I thought. Movement flickered near the shallow end. Two figures, barely visible through the gathering dusk and palm fronds. Guests weren't supposed to swim after sunset. Safety protocols. I should announce myself.
The words died in my throat. They weren't swimming.
Their thighs just below the turquoise water surface, two women facing each other naked, legs crossed, their bikinis lying discarded on the pool steps like battle flags left behind.
My breath hitches. I duck slightly behind a potted palm, pulse thudding in my ears. It’s the brunettes from Room 214 – the ones who arrived this morning giggling, arms linked, smelling like coconut sunscreen. Now? Now they’re locked together like fighters in some wet, forbidden arena.
Their pussies grinding together, a fierce mixing of sensuous fluids, accompanied by the splashing of water, aroused moans and mutual insults.
Their eyes are locked. No playful smiles now. Just raw, primal challenge. The one brunette surges forward again, harder, her clit wrestling with the other one’s. The water swirls around their joined thighs. Their pussies slap together wetly with each forceful grind, a slick, rhythmic sound.
It’s a fight. A desperate, beautiful contest where the only victory is the opponent’s ecstasy. I shouldn’t be watching. My cheeks burn. But my feet won’t move. It’s utterly captivating…"
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