Last August, I escaped to a secluded house by a lake for two weeks, fresh off a breakup with my ex-girlfriend of two years. Even though I’d ended things, I found myself continually drawn to memories—our photos, the videos we took together. Seeking a break from it all, I decided to leave the city behind, put my phone away, and immerse myself in nature to clear my mind. Being a bit of a sex addict, I realized that much of my previous relationship’s longevity came from an intense physical connection. My ex was incredibly hot and open to pretty much anything, even though she wasn’t exactly my type—I preferred curvy, juicy asses, and she definitely didn’t have one. Beautiful face and large natural breasts, sure, but her behind was average at best. Still, breaking up was the right choice; my feelings had faded.
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At the lake house, the days slipped by, but my desire remained fierce. I fought the urge to masturbate as I spent my days biking and spotting local women working at nearby resorts. Every glance only made the craving harder to resist.
On the seventh day, during one of my bike rides, I stumbled upon a quiet, almost deserted spot by the water’s edge. There, sunbathing on her back in a brown bikini, was a stunning young woman. She was irresistible. Her tanned skin glowed in the sunlight, her figure perfectly proportioned with an alluring, juicy ass that immediately caught my eye. She had an exotic, sultry face, and the contrast of her shy demeanor made her all the more captivating. I sat down about a hundred feet away, stealing glances at her as she lounged peacefully. Eventually, she stood, snapped some selfies, and caught me staring. Our eyes met.
I’m told I have an attractive presence that puts women at ease, and she soon approached me, a little shy in her revealing swimsuit. She asked if I could take some photos of her—she loved this spot and hoped to capture some shots here, but didn’t want to impose on a stranger. Despite her bashfulness, I sensed she knew exactly how desirable she was, and that a naughty streak lay beneath the surface masked by her coy charm. My heart pounded and my cock hardened instantly.
We began the impromptu photoshoot, an intensely erotic experience for me. She posed like a professional model, but her shy voice and occasional blushing betrayed her nerves. I was hard the entire time, barely able to focus. When we wrapped up, conversation flowed more freely. She shared that she worked at a nearby resort, had recently broken up herself, and was eager to post some more daring photos now that she was single.
Feeling the chemistry between us, I invited her back to my lake house for a drink. She agreed casually with a sultry smile, sliding her clothes into her bag and hopping on her bike, dressed only in that brown bikini. She followed me back without hesitation.
Once inside, we wasted no time. My lips met hers with fiery passion as I groaned over her perfect, tanned ass—everything my ex lacked. I could tell she wanted this as much as I did. I pulled her swiftly into the bedroom, guiding her onto the bed on all fours. I couldn’t resist snapping a photo of her arching backside before sliding her bikini bottoms aside. I teased her with my fingers, then pushed inside her, the sensation intoxicating. The view was too good—I had to record it. To my surprise, she consented. After a short clip, I stopped filming to focus on the moment, knowing these scenes would fuel my pleasure later. Despite my restraint, the after days of abstinence caught up with me, and I came quickly, thrusting deep enough to shoot a heated climax onto her ass. Restarting the recording, I captured the messy finale for my collection.
She hung around afterward, giggling as I coaxed her into sending me the photos I’d taken on her phone. Initially hesitant, she laughed off my request as payment and complied.
When she left, a flicker of regret seemed to shadow her eyes—maybe second thoughts about sharing herself so openly with a stranger. But I was elated, satisfying a craving I hadn’t even realized was so intense. Later that evening, I relived our encounter twice, jerking off to her images. The next morning, I messaged her, but she didn’t respond. I assumed that was it.
Then, two nights later, at 3 a.m., my phone buzzed. She was home. Drunk, dressed to kill in a tight, hot party dress I’d glimpsed on her social media earlier that day. She appeared at my door with a sultry command: “Fuck me.” Without a word, I undressed her and laid her down. The sex was rough, spontaneous. She was energetic, drunk but uninhibited, and she didn’t mind me filming again. Though she refused to perform oral, I wasn’t bothered—I was content to fuck her hard from behind.
Afterward, lying spent and slick, she turned to me and said, “Send the videos to my ex.” Shocked, but undeniably turned on by her boldness, I agreed and sent one clip to the number she provided. She stayed the night but slipped away early with no proper goodbye. Later, I found out through her social channels they’d rekindled their relationship; still, I couldn’t help returning to those vivid memories and the photos I’d kept—my secret pleasure.
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