(There's an extended version of this story titled "It Happened at the Lake." If you hated this story, then please check out my previous works. Do share your feedback. Thank you.)
I was 18 years old when I first touched a woman's breasts. She was our 42-year-old neighbor who had a lovely pair of breasts. She, of course, didn't like it, but I did it anyway. She was also the first woman I saw naked when I peeked through a window and saw her taking a shower. After that, I never lost an opportunity to touch her or see her nude.
During those years, I tried to see whatever of whomever I could: the breasts of my cousin. The naked body of our neighbor's daughter. My friend's mother in the shower. My voluptuous aunt. Feeling my cousin's breasts inside a railway car. Sucking another cousin's breasts. Watched another aunt breastfeed her baby, and also made an unsuccessful attempt to make a girl touch my cock.
I was 19 and ready for the big leap when a cousin came to stay with us for a couple of days. At that time, she was around 21 and experienced in all things sexual, so she took the initiative, and at night, we made love in my room while my parents slept in theirs.
I do not exactly remember whether I was good or bad, but she opened the floodgates, and I just could not have enough of her: We made love in the afternoon when my parents were out. We made love at her house when I went to visit her, and we made love at a mutual friend's house.
I have had sex with women of just about every shape, color, and size, but nobody comes even close to three women. One is Mom's best friend, Allison. She and my mother, Megan, hung out a lot together and she sometimes even came to our house. She's an accountant, her husband is a project manager, and they have a daughter who is of my age, 19. I only knew them causally and had seen their daughter once or twice when I went to their house to drop off Mom.
"Why do you want to bring your daughter along?" I overheard Mother asking Allison one day.
"To keep your son busy. Otherwise, he would spoil the party," she replied.
"Fair enough," said Mom.
At that moment, I thought they were talking about some party and, without giving it any more thought, I went into my room.
Around 10 days later, my mother, who was wearing a low-cut halter dress, revealing her ample cleavage and her smooth legs, called me into her bedroom and asked me how I would like a trip to an island.
"Yes, why not. Where?"
"A friend of mine has arranged a cottage for us on the Kiribati Islands for 15 days, and we can go there and enjoy some sun," she answered, taking a deep breath and flicking her long blonde hair with her fingers.
I had never heard of Kiribati or knew where it was, so asked her where we were going. Who has booked the cottage for us? Who else was going? Faced with so many questions, she sat down on a chair and began answering my barrage of queries.
"You know Allison? Well, she has a friend who had booked a cottage on Kiribati, it's an island near Australia, but her friend isn't going, so we can use it for two weeks."
"Who else will go?"
"You, me, Allison, and her daughter, Rachael."
Then she asked me whether I had a problem or some other engagement.
"No, I've nothing else to do."
"So, it's final?"
"Yes, why not."
With that out of our way, we got down to planning. I'd never even been to a beach, the sea is too far from our place, let alone an island, but I quickly discovered whatever I could thanks to the internet and soon I was off for the trip of my lifetime.
On the day of departure, Allison's husband, who was unable to come with us because of office work, dropped us off at the airport, and we were off to our dream vacation.
At the Kiribati airport, we took a taxi and headed to our cottage near the beach, but since it was raining and we were so tired from the long flight, we decided to stay indoors and make the cottage liveable.
The house had a living room, two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Since Rachael did not want to share a room, she took one room. Mom and Allison decided to share the only one left, and I got the couch in the living room. The kitchen, just like the rest of the house, had bare necessities, but since we had already eaten at the airport the absence of anything to eat did not bother us and as soon as our beds, or in my case, the couch, were ready we just crashed into them and went off to sleep.
I don't know for how long I slept, but when I woke up, it was already dark outside, and Mother and Allison were busy with groceries they had just bought from the town. I got up, took a shower, and changed clothes. By the time, I came to the kitchen, dinner was ready. As we were really hungry, we quickly finished off everything we could lay our hands on: sandwiches, beans with rice, fried potatoes, and the whole lot.
It was only after filling our stomachs that we stepped out of the house and went to the beach, where we lay down on mats we had brought with us and started to enjoy the beauty of the clear blue sky and appreciate the power of water lashing against our legs and clothes. I stayed there for about 20 minutes. But with the others busy with their own things, I decided to take a tour of the town and got up, went to the house, changed my clothes, and set off for the town center. After roaming around for nearly 45 minutes and getting absolutely drunk on local wine, I stumbled back home and straight away went to sleep on the couch.
By the time I woke up, the sun was up but the others were still sleeping, so I tiptoed to the kitchen, made a sandwich, and came outside to enjoy the fresh air.
Although I'd been with Allison and Rachael for nearly two days, including the traveling time, I'd hardly spoken to them apart from casual hellos, but when I saw Rachael walking toward me in a two-piece bikini my heart started missing beats, and felt a definite movement in my shorts.
