The Infinity Edge Pool by KathrynLocksley
Immerse yourself in 'The Infinity Edge Pool' – an erotic tale that explores passion and desire in a luxurious setting. Dive into a world of seduction, where tantalizing encounters unfold by the shimmering water. Experience a story full of steamy moments, captivating romance, and unforgettable chemistry. Perfect for lovers of erotic fiction looking to ignite their fantasies!<br/>
(This is a story about a f/f/f threesome between an older married lesbian couple and a young sapphic woman on vacation from her semi-open relationship back home. The young woman is the same character from “Under Everyday Clothes,” but this is a standalone adventure and not part of a continuous narrative. Contains fingering, spanking, and extended teasing with some very light dom/sub dynamics. All characters are consenting and over 18. For the reading pleasure of interested adults only.)
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“Well,” said Vianne, slapping her palms against her muscular thighs in that definitive way that I’d been dreading. “We’ve got an early morning ahead of us.”
“Of course, of course,” said Debbie, one of the two older American women resting at the near edge of the pool, with a margarita perched on the tile rim between her hands.
Debbie’s wife, Diane, nodded beside her and reached up to my deck chair to squeeze my hand, and run her thumb along my wrist the way she liked to do. “It’s been such fun.”
It had been fun, this whole holiday, more fun than I’d been expecting. The beaches, the drinks, the swimming pools designed for relaxation instead of cutthroat competition — it was all enough to make spending a week with my swim mates downright enjoyable.
Not that we hadn’t found ways of casually slipping competition into our relaxation. I would have won the breath-holding contest if that one lifeguard hadn’t interrupted.
But the best part of the trip by far had been getting to know Debbie and Diane. There was no contest to that.
For seven days, I’d been taking every chance I got to listen to their stories, which seemed to be bottomless and got racier the longer we’d been drinking. And I’d been sharing what few comparable stories I had myself, of my adventures with men and women and occasionally both at once. These were stories I’d never expected to share with anyone who hadn’t been part of them, but in the company of these two awe-inspiring sexual veterans of the world, anything I had ever done felt far too tame to be a secret.
Debbie and Diane never tried to make me feel that way. They gasped and clapped and cackled at every detail, making me feel like a legend on their level. They were clearly giving me bonus points for my age. Diane called me “precocious” at one point, and Debbie had made a running joke of looking scandalized whenever anyone served me alcohol, even though we all knew that you had to be an adult to stay at the Cosas Salvajes Resort in the first place.
These two women already felt like some of the best friends I’d ever had. And now it was ending.
Tonight was my last night in the Canaries. Tomorrow morning, my swimming friends and rivals and I would be rushing through one last round of empanadas from the all-inclusive breakfast buffet while we double-checked every bag for the flight back to Ireland.
That wasn’t a completely dismal thought. I did miss home. I missed Conner, my boyfriend, especially, and I was looking forward to hearing about everything he’d done during his “hall pass” week without me. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more I needed to do here, something to make this week real, not an illusion that would dissolve as soon as I was no longer surrounded by warm, white sand.
“You know, I think I’ll stay a little later,” I told Vianne.
“‘Attagirl!” Debbie whooped, while Diane clapped her hands excitedly together.
Vianne raised an eyebrow, and a few of the others did the same, while continuing to gather their things. She surveyed Debbie, Diane, myself, and our drinks, and I could practically watch the gears of threat assessment turn in her head. If Debbie and Diane had been men, Vianne probably wouldn’t have agreed to leave me there, but as it was, she just sighed heavily and said, “Don’t make us look for you in the morning, okay?”
I made my promises, swung my legs over the side of the lounge chair, and slipped into the clear, blue water between the two older women.
Debbie caught me around the hips, unnecessarily, on the way down, and Diane held my hand, even more unnecessarily, while Debbie set me on my feet on the smooth tile pool bottom. The water reached just high enough to lap over the low neckline of my one-piece bathing suit.
“I hope you’re not waiting until we’re ready to part with you,” Diane said in her smooth sweet voice, watching my friends leave over my shoulder. “Because we’ll keep you here all night.”
“All night?” Debbie laughed in her deeper, booming chest tones. “We’ll keep you until you forget you don’t live here.”
“Consider me warned,” I said, reaching under the chair I’d just come from for my mojito, and taking a sip.
Diane put her arm around Debbie and turned to look out toward the horizon. The pool had one of those “infinity” edges, where the water endlessly spilled over one low glass wall, giving the illusion that the pool continued right out to the ocean. It was all the more beautiful and unbroken now that we were the only bathers left.
“What would it be like to have a view like that in your life every day?” Diane sighed.
At that, Debbie turned her around and kissed her. It wasn’t a quick peck. It was the kind of deep, intimate, unreserved kiss that was first exciting to watch, heightening my tipsy full-body tingles, and then mildly awkward, as the soberer side of my mind wondered if I was supposed to look away.
Just when I was beginning to wonder if I’d totally misread the tenor of their friendliness and should make a polite exit after all, they broke apart, and Debbie reached out toward me.
“Have you ever made out in a place like this, Siobhan?” she asked.
“A pool, yes, all the time,” I answered. “But a place like this, no, never.”
“Would you like to?”
“I was really hoping you were going to ask that,” I admitted, wading over to the couple.
Debbie took my hand and placed it in Diane’s.
With the closest thing to shyness I imagined either of them to be capable of, Diane tugged me closer and placed one hand at the small of my back, the other under my chin.
She was the smaller of the pair, an inch or two shorter than me, and still with a strikingly athletic frame under her weathered skin. I liked to imagine that I’d be in that kind of shape when I reached my fifties, and that I’d be showing it off in barely-there bikinis the way Diane did.
Her long, reddish-brown hair hung down in two ribbons over her small chest, nearly covering the top of that bikini, and making her look like a naked vision of some ageless nature spirit.
She leaned in slowly, more slowly than I had patience for, and I met her sooner than the middle. Her lips were slightly windburned and tasted of orange and honey rum, and the gentle contact instantly made me feel twice as drunk as before.
“Is it okay if I touch you?” Debbie asked from behind me.
“Anywhere you like,” I confirmed, just barely removing my lips from her wife’s for long enough to make the words heard.
“Promise to tell me if I make you uncomfortable?”