The Red Bikini

It’s the morning after the wedding and we’re hungover from tequila shots and dancing like idiots. We’re nearish the Texas border, in Monterrey, Mexico, which no one’s ever heard of before, but it’s supposed to have really good steak and a close friend of mine is marrying a girl from there, so there we are.

Around noon, which feels like an ungodly hour in our state, family friends of the bride arrive in several cars to ferry the group from the hotel to a house out in the countryside for a final hang. It’s supposed to be a long drive, but worth it; we are told the house has a pool.

I’m small, so I always end up on someone’s lap in these situations, which usually is more uncomfortable, but this time, I get in the backseat between the legs of my friend, much better than perching on a lap. She’s straddling me and I feel like I’m being embraced. She has these thick thighs and soft curves. We joke that if we put her ass and my tits together on the same body, people wouldn’t be able to handle it. But it’s true, we’d take over the world.

I sink into her, taking comfort in her feminine form—it makes me feel softer toward my boyfriend somehow. He is in the front seat ahead of us, and every now and then I reach forward and stroke his neck. He’s been distant this trip, we’ve been fighting, and we’ve barely touched except for the mechanical fuck we had the day before, just hours before the wedding. Me on top of him with hair and makeup done, careful not to mess it up, I simply fucked him until I came. He knew I needed it, but it was too clean; glorified masturbation.

The car ride is fun even though the drive is long. We’re all in that silly post-drunk mood where you still might actually be drunk and you go with it. I take a moment to acknowledge a feeling of distinct happiness: despite my headache and weak stomach, I’m being ferried around a foreign country by a local, surrounded by friends that love me, and my boyfriend who may or may not love me, but regardless he’s along for the ride.

We pull up to a gated community, and suddenly we’re all paying attention. We’re entering what looks like a neglected wildlife park, dotted with a few homes, the mountains looming in the distance. We crawl out of the car and enter the grounds, immediately heading for the pool.

The air is crisp in a slightly sad, pre-fall mood, but we strip to our bathing suits anyway. The sunshine, weak as it is, feels like a tonic on our bodies. We’re languid on lounge chairs, starting to hurt, and we reach for beers to soothe us. One, two...the third is the one that’s medicine.

More people arrive and there aren’t enough lounge chairs, so I climb onto my boyfriend’s, melting into him, saying very little. He’s big, 6’2”, and his arms around me feel reassuring. He has a steadiness that grounds me. I close my eyes and put my nose in his armpit. I know he’s probably mad at me, I was mean in the morning, but I’m in a better mood now. This day feels like the resolution of what was a difficult trip: we’re going to be okay.

We eat lunch, everything is fried, it’s perfect and spicy, healing our hangovers. Then the children, the brave ones, get in the pool, so we migrate to sit on the edge, dipping our feet in. I lean back in my red bikini, my hands getting stamped by the rough surface around the pool. My feet in the cool water give me a rush, and my nipples tighten. My boyfriend is watching me from behind his sunglasses. I can tell, so I arch my back a little. He looks cute in those sunglasses.

When he’s happy with me, he’s flirtatious and affectionate in a way that disarms me. Now, he reaches behind me and grazes the top of my butt through my thin bathing suit, then, moving his hand around my waist, playfully tugs at the tie to the bottom. The tug creates a slit between the suit and my skin, and I get a tiny rush of cool air on me. My nipples turn to marble and a wave of desire creeps up, like slow fingers. I throw him a ‘fuck me’ stare, lips parted, but it turns into a smile, and I laugh. I take a too large gulp of my beer, close my eyes, and imagine his mouth on me.

I am always thinking of his mouth on me. He is the first man to make me come with his lips and tongue, and now it is my favorite thing. When he makes me come with his mouth I want to tell him I love him, that he is magic. I want to make a statue of his mouth, so I can worship it like he worships my cunt.

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