Because I had just come back from the beach so my skin tingled with salt. He stood me at the end of the bed and knelt down before me, running his hands down my thighs, feeling the swell of my hips, his eyes on the area between my legs.

The room was half in shade. Sunshine edged the blinds, ruffled by a gentle breeze from the open window. Through the glass was the view of the beach with its lines of umbrellas, evenly spaced, coded according to colour for the different resorts, blue, red, yellow, north to south as far as the eye could see.

His fingers toyed with the drawstring of my bikini bottoms. His hands squeezed the flesh around my ass. He moved his face forwards and began to kiss the inside of my thighs. I put my hand on his head, scrunched up his hair, and urged him into me.

I had barely unpacked. My suitcase lay open, clothes strewn over the floor as I had rummaged for my beachwear, anxious after the long flight for the call of the sea and the cool of an umbrella shade, a long drink and heat on my body.

His tongue was massaging my pussy through the material of my panties. I was wet, so wet, tremors rippling up from the top of my crotch to the base of my throat and back again. I could feel him everywhere, as if his tongue was setting off multiple sensors through me, from inside my ass to the soles of my feet, from the pit of my stomach to other parts of me, sensations that sparkled and burst like sherbet stars.

I wanted him to remove the material, to feel the full extent of his tongue deep inside me, I wanted him to taste me, to have my juices running into his mouth.

‘Fondle your breasts,’ he said.

And at his instruction my nipples rose, pushing against my bikini top, its cups weighed down by the heavy flesh of my breasts.

I was sure this was what had first attracted him. I was sure that he had seen me while I waited at the bar for my cocktail, leaning over, the skimpy top I wore barely covering me. And I knew that when he came from the other side of the bar to stand next to me, not quite touching, the strength of his body a magnet, that soon he would have his hands on me and that I would let him do whatever he wanted.

I did what he wanted. I took my breasts in my hands and began to squeeze each one, my palms barely spacious enough to contain each one, flesh protruding through my fingers, nipples now hardened.

The room was dim, but I could see myself in the mirror opposite. My dark curls bouncing around my shoulders, my slender shoulders, my full bosom in my hands and this man, kneeling in front of me, his tongue an engine around the inside of my thighs, leaving silvery trails, working itself around and over my panties, tasting the pussy juice already soaking the material.

Then he stopped and drew himself up so he stood in front of me. He was nearly a head taller than me. He leant forward and my mouth opened. His tongue, which a moment ago had been sending me shivers of sheer pleasure, was now wrapped around my own tongue, the two organs mingling, saliva mixing with the salty-sweet juices from my pussy and the lime-sugary hit of our mojitos.

His hands were exploring my back, running over the contours of my waist, then smoothing down over my ass, squeezing each cheek. I wasn’t wearing a thong, and so his fingers slipped under the edge of the material; one of them lingered over the entrance to my asshole. He removed his hands from my ass and brought one of the up to my face.

‘You’re a dirty girl,’ he said. His eyes locked mine. My lips fell open.

He extended the middle finger of his right hand and stroked my face with it, running it over my cheekbones, over my heat-soaked skin, over my button nose. My breasts squashed against his chest, my thighs entwined his. I could feel him, rock hard, against my stomach.

He slid his finger into my open mouth. I sucked on it while his other hand encircled the back of my neck, caressing me. He rolled his finger around the inside of my mouth, playing it against the tip of my tongue, across the tops of my lips. He reached down and felt between my legs, for the moisture there. His touch brought me spasms throughout my body. Bringing his finger back up he put it back in my mouth and once again I tasted myself. I looked him in the eye.

‘Yes,’ I said. It was the second time I had said that to him.

‘Get on the floor,’ he said to me, ‘on all fours. Face the mirror.’

I sank down, running my hands down the sides of his body, brushing my face and my mouth against his erection that strained against his boxers. I wanted to slide it out and wrap my lips around it. I wanted to feel him inside me in that way. I wanted to taste his cum in my mouth.

‘No,’ he said, and moved apart so that I could do what he asked.

My knees sank onto the soft rug, my palms followed. I looked into the mirror, a hungry look in my eyes. My back arched. I didn’t know what he wanted to do but I couldn’t wait to figure out what it was.

In the reflection I saw him come up behind me. I felt the bulge of his cock against the wet of my pussy. He still hadn’t taken my bikini top or bottoms off. I felt myself soaking, even as I rubbed myself back into him, my ass and pussy running the length of his hard dick. My breasts looked even bigger in the mirror and I could see him looking at them as he held me by the waist, as we simulated fucking, his cock rubbing me from behind. My ass was twitching, my pussy aching. I wanted him inside me. Somehow, anyhow.

He shifted to one side. His right hand was stroking my ass, gently squeezing each cheek as before. One finger trailed up the canyon between them then nestled in the valley and gradually began to circle. I could feel my ass getting moist too. I could feel it opening up. If it hadn’t been for the material of my bikini bottoms, his finger would be inside my asshole by now, and there I was, kneeling before the mirror, watching myself getting fingered.

He brought that finger around again. I watched it come closer to my face, caught my scent as it passed my nose, accepted it into my mouth again. This time the taste had a sourer note, mixed with the sweeter honey of my pussy.

‘Dirty bitch,’ he whispered.

He pulled my bikini bottoms to one side so that my asshole was revealed. He dipped down and I felt his tongue inside my ass even as I saw his head bend down there. I could watch him, his hands around my waist, as his tongue flickered around the rim of my hole, making exploratory quests inside. He was tongue-fucking me, going deep into my ass, puling out then delving back in. My whole body felt electrified. I reached my left hand back and took hold of his hair again, pulling him into me, at the same time thrusting back my hips so he could get even deeper inside. The muscles in my stomach were contracting, there was an ache in my thighs.

Then he stood up.

‘Stay where you are.’

I did, on all fours, looking up at him as he came around in front of me. If anything his dick was even harder than it had been before. I wondered it would burst out of his shorts.

‘Stay on your knees. Take my dick out.’

Now I was kneeling before him, and now it was my hands around his waist, my fingers digging into the flesh of his muscled buttocks as I took him in my mouth. At first I concentrated on just the tip, which twitched and pulsed as I flicked it with my tongue. I could taste him already. I kissed the tip, my lips around that part, feeling his foreskin stretching back. At the same time I was licking him. He took hold of my hair, my dark curls in his hands, and drew himself fully into me, the full length of his shaft entering my mouth.

‘No hands,’ he said. ‘Put them behind your back.’

With one hand he had a hold of my hair, in a rough ponytail, his other was on his hip as he thrust into my mouth, his dick sliding between my lips.

‘Look at me,’ he said, and I opened my eyes wide to meet his, my neck straining, back arching up.

He face-fucked me like that, bringing his spare hand down to squeeze my breasts, still in their casing.

Then he pulled out, and I knew he was gonna fuck me in the ass. Still holding my hair, he walked me over to an armchair which he made me get on top of so that my hands gripped the rim, my knees were on the seat and my ass was open towards him. He knelt and spat into me, making me wet again. His finger pushed roughly into my ass and he made me taste it, again and again, finger to ass to mouth to ass to mouth.

He slid his cock into my ass, his hands taking hold of my hips. I felt his full length, felt his strokes, slow and deep, felt my breasts pushing against the back of the chair. The sensation was extraordinary, as if I no longer had any control over the feelings in my body, as if by offering my body to him, to do what he wanted, I was only a receptor, a buzz of sensations; I could only feel, not think or rationalise, I could only experience and by giving myself up I was transported into a world where only sensory pleasure existed, where his hands pulling my hair back, his meaty palm slaps on my behind, his hands fondling my breasts, and, most of all, his cock going in and out of my ass, were the only things that remained. And yes, this was a world I wanted to live in as much as was feasible. I don’t know how many times I came. I don’t know how many times my body flexed in orgasmic thrill. I didn’t know where I was or who I was.

Then he withdrew, his breath short; I could feel the drip of his sweat on my sun-soaked, salt-flecked skin. My body had never felt more alive.

I knelt back on the floor and took him in my mouth again. He groaned, as if in pain. I took the entire length of his shaft and this time he let me do it, let me pull his cock, let me lick the length of him, until he brushed my hand away and took himself in his right hand, slightly leaning back, eyes closed. The tip of his dick was centimetres from my mouth.

‘Cum all over my face,’ I whispered.

His right hand was a blur of motion. I could see his tip twitch, the end swollen, his sperm ready to burst out and cover me.

When he came it was a dribble at first that I caught on my chin; then a spurt, that landed over my lips and across my left cheek, then another spurt, and another, and another, until I didn’t think it was feasible for there to be so much of it and yet I could hardly see because his ejaculation was white hot and sticky all over my face, over my eyelids, my mouth, my cheeks, across my forehead and into my hair. Droplets had spilled over my breasts.

‘Open your mouth,’ he said, ‘and clean me off.’

I did as he asked. I took him again, extracting the last drops of semen from his winking dick. I knelt back, lifting the strands of cum from my eyes, wiping it so I could look up into his eyes.

‘Good girl,’ he said, ‘you’ve been a good girl. You took all of it. Did you like it? Did you? Did you like to taste your own ass? Did you like me fucking your ass? Did you like it, when I sprayed my load all over your pretty face?’

I nodded. Yes, I mouthed, I liked it a lot. I couldn’t speak.

After he left I undressed and took a long shower. I made sure the spray of the water reached every part of me, inside and outside, the soapy foam cleansing and invigorating at the same time, my body reacting in quick little jerks whenever my fingers caressed my pussy or my breasts. I hadn’t been taken in the ass like that before. The wondered such pleasure was feasible was making me excited again.

Once out of the shower I wrapped my damp body in a towel and took my time unpacking, selecting what dress I would wear that evening. I tried on a few different ones, letting each one slip over my body, feeling the the different materials, the silks, the satins, the brushed linens, against my skin. I drank iced water from a tall glass. I nibbled at a small bowl of olives. I chose underwear of lilac lace and a black swing dress with a high neckline, that brought me in at the smallest part of my waist so my bust was accentuated, and when I walked, my hips would swing. I turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind me, ready for the evening.