blindly. She couldn't bear to tear her eyes away from the action for a microsecond.
As she touched herself, a cringingly unwanted thought occurred to her.
What would Jim think of her now? Her nearly husband, the last man who'd touched her intimately and the one who might have been here with her now, enjoying sex in the sun, if life had played out differently?
The break-up had been amicable, just, but at such short notice that Laurie had ended up coming on the honeymoon on her own. Early October in the Caribbean certainly beat hanging around at home, feeling sorry for herself and being talked about at work for being dumped.
Jim certainly wouldn't have been into
this
, and that was a fact. Jim liked simple straightforward meat and potatoes intercourse; which was obviously the sort he'd been having with someone called Melanie in accounts, a younger woman whom he'd inadvertently got pregnant.
Amicable break up? Who the hell am I kidding? I want to kill the bastard!
If she hadn't been glued to the binoculars, she would have shook her head to free her mind of Jim and Melanie angst. They were history and this was now. And feeling horny and being a voyeur was therapeutic.
God, she was sticky... hot... wet... as voluptuous and syrupy as her luscious rum cocktail. Wiggling a little on her stool, Laurie swirled her own intoxicating cocktail over and around her clit, all the time watching the trio in the other villa, where apparently clit swirling was also on the menu. The grateful recipient was moaning and carrying on alarming, her cries echoing out from the open window, whereas Laurie confined herself to little gasps and stifled squeaks so as not to disturb them and end the show prematurely.
Not that the participants in the floorshow would have noticed if she fell off her stool and shouted profanities at the top of her lungs. They'd just carry on regardless, she was sure of it. The occupants of the other villa in their little enclave might spare Laurie a glance though, and she didn't want to be the supporting act, with the boy/girl/boy there as the headliner.
There were two guys staying in the presently unlit Cabana Three; two very hot men who were both her type, even though each very different. It was just infuriatingly unfortunate that they were completely into each other rather than the women at the resort.
Trust me to fancy the two gay guys! I can't seem to catch a break with men just now.
The commotion below continued, getting noisier. Lucky Girl let out a sharp, high giggle that cut the air, followed by a low, jerky, broken groan that signified something unmistakable.
Oh God, I want that!
The trio was a syncopated machine now, a temporary construct of limbs and torsos working together, rubbing, and writhing. And they were all climaxing.
Dancing in clumsy circles, Laurie rubbed herself furiously. Pinpoint accuracy wasn't necessary, didn't matter. The horny show before her more than compensated for any slapdash fumbling. She wanted to come... but somehow, all of a sudden, she also
didn't
want to come.
It didn't make sense. What was she saving herself for? She owed herself this pleasure, and she felt horny enough to take it, Jim or no Jim.
Then, even as the gilded bodies flexed hard, going rigid as if they were a single unified being, fingers clutching at one another, they seemed to lose it as one and tumble in a heap, laughing and grabbing at each other as they dropped out of view below the window sill.
Laurie giggled too, she couldn't help it. The binoculars swung on their strap as she came at the same time, despite her hesitation. It was just a little climax, almost stolen, a sharp, delicious hiccup of sensation in her pussy, a swift erotic sneeze between her thighs. It was as funny as it was pleasurable and she kept on laughing as her sex fluttered, hot and wet.
"What?"
Even as she leant against the window frame, shaking, a movement to the left caught her eye. Snapping around to face the other, closer cabana,
As she touched herself, a cringingly unwanted thought occurred to her.
What would Jim think of her now? Her nearly husband, the last man who'd touched her intimately and the one who might have been here with her now, enjoying sex in the sun, if life had played out differently?
The break-up had been amicable, just, but at such short notice that Laurie had ended up coming on the honeymoon on her own. Early October in the Caribbean certainly beat hanging around at home, feeling sorry for herself and being talked about at work for being dumped.
Jim certainly wouldn't have been into
this
, and that was a fact. Jim liked simple straightforward meat and potatoes intercourse; which was obviously the sort he'd been having with someone called Melanie in accounts, a younger woman whom he'd inadvertently got pregnant.
Amicable break up? Who the hell am I kidding? I want to kill the bastard!
If she hadn't been glued to the binoculars, she would have shook her head to free her mind of Jim and Melanie angst. They were history and this was now. And feeling horny and being a voyeur was therapeutic.
God, she was sticky... hot... wet... as voluptuous and syrupy as her luscious rum cocktail. Wiggling a little on her stool, Laurie swirled her own intoxicating cocktail over and around her clit, all the time watching the trio in the other villa, where apparently clit swirling was also on the menu. The grateful recipient was moaning and carrying on alarming, her cries echoing out from the open window, whereas Laurie confined herself to little gasps and stifled squeaks so as not to disturb them and end the show prematurely.
Not that the participants in the floorshow would have noticed if she fell off her stool and shouted profanities at the top of her lungs. They'd just carry on regardless, she was sure of it. The occupants of the other villa in their little enclave might spare Laurie a glance though, and she didn't want to be the supporting act, with the boy/girl/boy there as the headliner.
There were two guys staying in the presently unlit Cabana Three; two very hot men who were both her type, even though each very different. It was just infuriatingly unfortunate that they were completely into each other rather than the women at the resort.
Trust me to fancy the two gay guys! I can't seem to catch a break with men just now.
The commotion below continued, getting noisier. Lucky Girl let out a sharp, high giggle that cut the air, followed by a low, jerky, broken groan that signified something unmistakable.
Oh God, I want that!
The trio was a syncopated machine now, a temporary construct of limbs and torsos working together, rubbing, and writhing. And they were all climaxing.
Dancing in clumsy circles, Laurie rubbed herself furiously. Pinpoint accuracy wasn't necessary, didn't matter. The horny show before her more than compensated for any slapdash fumbling. She wanted to come... but somehow, all of a sudden, she also
didn't
want to come.
It didn't make sense. What was she saving herself for? She owed herself this pleasure, and she felt horny enough to take it, Jim or no Jim.
Then, even as the gilded bodies flexed hard, going rigid as if they were a single unified being, fingers clutching at one another, they seemed to lose it as one and tumble in a heap, laughing and grabbing at each other as they dropped out of view below the window sill.
Laurie giggled too, she couldn't help it. The binoculars swung on their strap as she came at the same time, despite her hesitation. It was just a little climax, almost stolen, a sharp, delicious hiccup of sensation in her pussy, a swift erotic sneeze between her thighs. It was as funny as it was pleasurable and she kept on laughing as her sex fluttered, hot and wet.
"What?"
Even as she leant against the window frame, shaking, a movement to the left caught her eye. Snapping around to face the other, closer cabana,
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