Intimate Details - Surf, Sand, and Sun

Chapter 2 - Day 2 (Evening)

The sea was blissful. Rarity had never swam outside of Ponyville’s public swimming pool, and even that was a lackluster experience. Still, it had been good exercise so she had gone frequently and developed the necessary technique to stay afloat, and even enjoy herself in the water. Lathered in more sunscreen than should be necessary and sprinting alongside Octavia, Rarity had dashed into the water and dove head-first into the chilly waves. They laughed and splashed and swam for what felt like hours. Fighting the waves was incredibly fun, and Rarity laughed when Octavia was pushed over by one particularly forceful shove. Still, the cellist kept pace with Rarity, the two of them cutting through the waves and swimming side-by-side. Only when Rarity felt a dull ache build in her legs did she finally drag herself from the surf to sprawl on her back on the soft white sand, staring up at the infinite blue sky.

“This is more fun than anyone should ever be allowed to have.” Octavia collapsed next to her, the two of them laying spread-eagle on the beach. The sun felt incredible on her skin, evaporating each droplet of water one by one. The sky and the sea reeled all around them, stretching on forever and ever. Rarity felt like they were truly alone. They hadn’t even spotted any of the other guests. They were alone on the beach. Just the two of them. Rarity’s sandy hand found Octavia’s, giving it a tender squeeze. It seemed surreal. Here she was, a simple dressmaker from Ponyville, married to the most skilled and magnificent musician in all of Equestria, laying side-by-side on a pristine beach, with six more days of blissful fun ahead of them.

It felt like a dream.

But when Octavia’s lips suddenly pressed to hers, she didn’t wake up, alone and cold in her Canterlot apartment. She stayed there, from the first contact all the way through the erotic, tongue-filled, eager embrace. The heat returned to Rarity’s core. She wanted Octavia. And she wanted her now. If not for the sand and the exposure, Rarity would have stripped Octavia out of her bikini and taken her right then and there. Instead, she tore herself away and sprinted back into the water. The sand sluiced off of her skin as she cut through the first few waves, joined shortly by Octavia. Then, dripping from head to toe but mostly free of sand, the two of them walked arm-in-arm back to the bungalow.

The second they stepped inside the door, the kissing began. Octavia shoved Rarity back up against the woven-grass wall, her lips hungry as she kissed up and down Rarity’s neck and collarbone. Rarity groaned and pushed her hands into Octavia’s soaked hair, tugging firmly on the long, sodden strands. Octavia pulled Rarity’s neck into her mouth, sucking hard and long. The lancing pain of the hickey dulled into a hot heat that penetrated through Rarity’s chest, past her stomach, and down into her nethers. She squirmed against the wall, feeling suddenly constricted by the scanty bikini. Octavia didn’t stop, though. She kept sucking, biting, and even pulling on Rarity’s neck. Rarity didn’t even care. They were on their honeymoon. She would wear the love bite proudly. She might even flaunt it. To her, it said ‘I am Octavia’s. See? She’s marked me. I belong to her.’

“Haah. Tavi. Please.” Rarity panted, her lips damp and eager to be paid attention to. “Get me out of this thing.” Octavia didn’t even pull away from her neck. Her hands slid around to Rarity’s back, tugging at the hooks of her bikini top until it popped free. The sudden release of pressure was nirvana. Rarity could feel her breasts again. They were sensitive, eager, and her nipples hard enough to cut glass. Octavia’s hands transitioned to her front, roughly pushing the top up around Rarity’s neck so she could palm Rarity’s tits. By now, Octavia had left a miniature waterfall of drool down Rarity’s front. The mark on her neck throbbed painfully, but it was nothing in comparison to the heat she felt in her crotch. The slippery feel of Octavia’s saliva dripped down to her breasts, where the cellist’s skilled hands began massaging and squeezing the sensitive mounds of jiggly woman-flesh. Rarity would have came right then and there, had she any say in the matter. Instead, she reached her hands above her head, gripping the frame of the door. Octavia pressed tighter against her, driving her hips back against the wall.

“Aahn!” Rarity threw her head back against the wall, her hair flinging drops of salt water all over the bedroom. She didn’t care. Octavia’s hungry touch was driving her insane. She could have died. It would almost have been a welcome release from the torture. But Octavia continued. She was done sucking on Rarity’s neck, and had transitioned to dragging long, sloppy licks over the dull, aching expanse of flesh she had been abusing. She slobbered all down Rarity’s front, further lubricating her breast massage. Rarity squirmed and panted, but try as she might, she couldn’t get Octavia to pay attention to her aching pussy.

Then it happened. Octavia pulled away, her hands gripping the remainder of Rarity’s bikini. She was forcefully dragged through the door to the bathroom, shoved into the shower, and flattened against the low stone bench that dominated one full wall. Octavia stood over her, towering, looking downright dangerous with the lusty look in her eyes. “Take it off.” Octavia growled. Rarity fumbled to follow the order, her hands tugging at the bikini top until it slid over her head. The bottoms were a little more troublesome, and clearly not going fast enough for Octavia. With a low, almost animal-like growl, she dropped to her knees and ripped them off. Rarity didn’t even care. The shredded fabric fell to the shower floor, and just as she cranked the water on hot, Octavia dove between Rarity’s thighs.

“AHH!” Rarity cried out. The first touch against her neglected womanhood was like a shot. Quick, borderline painful, and it left a dull ache behind. But then the shot came again. And again. She couldn’t even tell what Octavia was doing down there, but it had a profound effect on her. With a shuddering cry, Rarity bucked her hips up from the bench and came. Hard. No one would have been able to tell her orgasmic juices apart from the flow of the shower, except maybe Octavia, who was too busy trying to drink as much of it as humanly possible. Rarity shuddered and drooled on the bench, dribbling saliva all down her front. The pleasure was as sharp as a knife, and cut straight through her senses to leave her dull. There was nothing like it. She almost felt detached, like this was happening to someone else. She watched herself ooze and spurt a prodigious amount of thin, clear liquid, and watched Octavia’s hungry mouth lap up every last drop.

“Again.” Octavia growled.

“What?”

“Cum again.”

“HNN-GUH!” Rarity’s entire body tensed. Octavia plunged two fingers deep inside of her core. This she could feel. The sensation of two dexterous fingers writhing about inside of her pulsating vagina was unlike any other. She looked down the length of her body, over the twin mountains of her saliva-coated breasts, down between her thighs where Octavia’s fingers disappeared between her drenched, pink, glistening lips. Her swollen clitoris throbbed visibly, even as Octavia bent her fingers back and forth inside of her. She rubbed the thick, round area of her G-spot until Rarity lost all sense of time and self-awareness. Another orgasm ripped through her senses, sharper and faster, leaving her a ragged, panting mess in its aftermath. Rarity collapsed on the bench, slumped back against the wall. She had no more strength. All of it had poured out into Octavia’s hands. The hot water washed over her, buffing out the last bits of sand that had been left behind, leaving her a pink, dripping lump of flesh, covered in drool, salt, and water.

Octavia stood then, grinning as she reached behind her back. Rarity watched with half-lidded eyes as Octavia pulled her top off, exposing her perky, dark nipples. Then came the bottom. She slid out of them easier than any other garment she ever owned, and began sliding a hand over the flesh beneath to buff out the sand. When she was cleaned, she placed one foot on the bench, and then the other. Rarity watched as Octavia stood above her, one foot on either side of her hips, her shaved crotch a mere inch in front of her eyes.

“Lick it.” Octavia panted. One hand slid into Rarity’s hair, lifting her head up. She looked up the flat expanse of Octavia’s stomach, between her breasts, up into her wife’s face. “And don’t you dare stop until I say so.”

Rarity opened her mouth to reply. Or at least, she would have, but Octavia pulled. With a gasp, Rarity’s mouth was suddenly filled with the musky taste she was so intimately familiar with. She had no choice. Her dull-minded brain barely managed to stick her tongue out and wiggle it a little. Octavia did the rest of the work. Gasping and panting, her hips ground themselves against Rarity’s face, until nothing was left but the fleshy heaven of Octavia’s warm, slippery, soft thighs. Rarity was inundated. She could taste Octavia, both her holes, as the cellist continued to hump Rarity’s face. When she came, it was without warning. Rarity couldn’t hear much anyways, her ears were all but blocked. But she felt it. Octavia’s core muscles contracted around her tongue, squeezing out each drop of the delicious, musky orgasmic fluid. She shuddered and shook on top of the bench, keeping Rarity’s mouth plastered to her dripping cunt.

“Pwah!” Rarity finally got a breath in. Her head was spinning. Octavia stepped down off of the bench, her own chest heaving in time with Rarity’s. The only sound was the rushing of blood through her ears and the breathy pants of both of them trying to catch their breath. Octavia looked into her eyes, and Rarity looked right back. There they were, one cellist and one dressmaker, married for life, for better or worse, and probably suffering some sort of muscle atrophy.

“Bed.” Octavia managed to gasp. Rarity nodded weakly. Feeling drunk and light-headed, Rarity cranked the water off and woodenly dried herself with the big, white, fluffy towels hanging on the wall. She and Octavia stumbled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where they collapsed nude onto the rumpled sheets. There was the smell of musk, brine, and sleep in the air. Rarity lay spread-eagle on the sheets, still damp from the shower and the abusive tonguing, while Octavia lay on her stomach to her left.

That whole ordeal was never forgotten to Rarity. It was pure, unbridled lust. Both of them had rubbed one another down thoroughly, bounced through the surf, hugged and kissed and embraced in the cool water, and generally just been close without being able to relieve the stress of seeing each other dressed in such suggestive swimsuits. Not to mention the pent-up desire they had made for themselves just putting the damned things on. There hadn’t been anything passionate or even kind about that release. But heavens be damned, Rarity loved every moment. Slowly, muscle coordination and lucidity returned to her. She nuzzled Octavia’s neck and tucked herself into her wife’s arms. They stayed like that for a long while, chatting and simply just staying close. Come seven o’clock, both women decided a legitimate shower was in order. Feeling surprisingly refreshed and relaxed, Rarity followed Octavia back into the shower to hang up the skimpy bikinis to dry, shave, shampoo, condition, scrub, and generally just clean themselves off. The cool shower felt wonderful on her sun-flushed skin, and Rarity felt relieved when she pulled her frazzled and neglected hair into a tight ponytail.

By the time they were finished, it was nearly time for dinner. They changed into casual clothes; A tank-top and jeans for Rarity, and a knee-length skirt and blouse for Octavia, before calling Jason and the two chefs. Not five minutes later, a train of three golf carts pulled up to the bungalow, complete with a contingent of chefs, waiters, and one very important-looking man in a tropical shirt and beige khaki pants. He was the first to approach them, offering a warm, weathered hand. Rarity didn’t miss his eyes as they flickered to the dark hickey on her neck. Rarity didn’t make an effort to hide it. She wore it just as proudly as the ring on her left hand.

“Pleased to meet you, ladies.” He spoke easily. His dark hair was slightly faded from long hours in the sun, and he seemed to have the same sun-kissed skin as all of the other workers. He was somewhat stocky, but stood taller than both Rarity and Octavia by a full head. Underneath his shirt, he looked hard. Despite his important bearing, Rarity could tell he was no stranger to a hard day’s work. “My name’s Phillip Monroe, and I own this resort. I trust you two are enjoying your stay so far?”

“Oh, wow!” Rarity blushed as she took his hand. The owner of the entire resort? Here? She wondered what had brought him. She hoped it wasn’t a familiar tabloid headline… “Pleased to meet you. I’m Rarity, and this is my wife, Octavia.”

“Charmed, Phillip. What brings you out here?” Octavia spoke the question on Rarity’s mind as she shook the man’s hand firmly.

“It’s a bit of a tradition, I’m afraid. Excuse me.” Phillip stepped back and bowed low. Not only was he strong, but graceful as well. Rarity and Octavia looked at him expectantly. “I humbly ask your permission to attend dinner alongside you, to officially welcome you to the Diamond Sands Luxury Resort and Spa.” Rarity and Octavia shared a look and a smile before reclining in their chairs.

“By all means, Phillip. Feel free to join us.” The resort owner righted himself with a smile and slid into the chair opposite Octavia, to Rarity’s left. Behind him, Jason, the two chefs, and five other attendants began bustling about in preparation for dinner. Rarity didn’t get much of a chance to watch them, as Phillip drew their attention right away.

“How are you enjoying your stay so far?” He asked, leaning back easily. Octavia gently tangled her fingers through Rarity’s before answering.

“I’m absolutely stunned. How on Equestria did you manage all this? The technology, the luxury, my goodness the service. Please tell me you don’t treat every guest this way. You’d run yourself into the ground in less than a year.” Phillip laughed warmly and waved a hand.

“I’m afraid you two are a special case. You see, if it weren’t for your father’s funding and supply network, this resort never would have been built. He was one of the original backers, and thanks to him, we were able to break ground on the main spa building, offices, and all of the bungalows. We only finished construction last year, and opened before the winter rush. He out-did himself again by recommending us at nearly every function he attended. We were booked solid for four straight months. In fact, we were able to cover our expenses and turn a profit in the first quarter.” He grinned widely, gesturing over his shoulder at the wait staff. “The profit went into salary bonuses and raises, and we were able to hire full-time staff like Jason and the girls. This right now, with the school back in session and all of the high-brow executives cooped up in their offices, is the deadest I’ve seen it. Believe it or not, we’re only running with a quarter of our normal staff, and most of them are maintenance working on fixing a bungalow we lost in a lightning strike two weeks ago.”

“That’s incredible.” Rarity breathed, resting her chin on her hand. “Octavia’s father really helped you out, huh?”

“Believe me, if it were anybody other than you two visiting this resort, I’d have taken it as an insult. Davis has been so good to me and everyone here, I consider him a close friend. Still. I’m glad his daughter was able to take advantage of his gift in his stead. But now, drinks! May I present, the lovely Miss Erica!” He clapped his hands, and from around the Golf Cart emerged what Rarity assumed was the resort’s Mixmaster.

“How are you guys doing today? Phil, you treating these ladies alright?” Erica’s smile wilted slightly at the sight of Rarity’s dark hickey, but when Rarity shot her a devious grin, it came back just as strong.

“Implying I don’t always treat every woman right, eh Erica?” Phil elbowed the skinny woman with a wide grin. Erica was a slender woman, just about as tall as Rarity, with a tightly-drawn ponytail of raven-black hair, and dark eyes. Rarity could see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of her blouse, and a quick glance down to her legs revealed another on the back of her calf, just beneath the hem of her black capris. She had a fair face with drawn features, and a quick smile. Unlike the other servers, though, she was just as pale as Rarity and Octavia had been that morning. “Erica here is a DJ at a local club when she isn’t working here. Don’t you have a gig tonight?” Phil explained, while Erica’s hands lit up. Rarity watched as she produced a whole rack of bottles ranging in color from clear to dark green, brown, blue, and even violent, neon pink.

“Tomorrow.” Erica shrugged. “I’m all yours tonight, baby.”

“Don’t tell me.” Octavia’s gaze was fixed on the booze. “Is that pink gin?”

“You’ve a good eye, but you’re wrong this time.” Erica grinned as she pulled the neon pink bottle free with a flourish. “This is a homebrew. I make it myself. Agave, fish oil, vermouth, and cinnamon. Along with a few select spells. Here.” She flipped the bottle upside-down with a mind-bending flick of her wrist and produced two shot glasses just as the first drop was about to hit the table. The liquid almost seemed to glow as she poured the two shots and slid them across the dinner table towards Rarity and Octavia. “Give it a try.” Rarity eyed the shot questioningly after hearing what had went into it, but a place like this wasn’t like to give her anything bad. She clinked her glass against Octavia’s and downed the shot in one go.

It was like swallowing pure, tongue-blazing bliss. The flavor of cinnamon and sugar erupted onto her tongue, almost completely devoid of any alcoholic bite. Rarity’s eyes went wide as the spice covered her tongue, burning at a pleasantly low temperature. A warmth spread down her throat and into her chest, and when she swallowed, it seemed to glide down to her stomach like nothing she had ever had before. To her right, Octavia looked just as shocked, while Erica and Phillip burst into laughter.

“What?” Rarity asked, looking between the two of them quizzically.

“I dare you,” Erica gasped between howls of laughter. “To kiss your wife. I dare you.”

“Just wait for it.” Phillip was giggling so hard he had tears in his eyes. “Just wait.”

“What did you- WOAH!” Just as Rarity went to ask them what she had just drank, a pink-colored ball of fire erupted from her mouth. Erica and Phillip collapsed to the floor in a gale of laughter, as Octavia’s own fireball erupted into the air above the table. Rarity clamped a hand over her mouth, but another fireball seeped out, whooshing into existence without any warning whatsoever. Octavia gave a clipped cry as her own joined Rarity’s, the two of them joining into a larger conflagration. Phil and Erica were on the floor, rolling with laughter. Rarity was just about to holler at them when the third and biggest fireball burst from her mouth. Each one was so hot, she was sure her tongue had been burned out, and all her hair singed from her face. She was going to burn the bungalow down. Octavia’s third joined hers, and Rarity watched the pink flames gush against the woven-grass ceiling. But after they spread and died out, the grass remained intact without even a single singe mark. Patting her face with both hands, Rarity found her eyebrows and hairline intact. Octavia was grinning stupidly. Her tongue burned as if she had just eaten a spicy pepper, but other than that, she was fine.

“Okay, not funny.” Rarity’s smile betrayed her anger. Phil had come to all fours, while Erica laughed as she propped herself up on the table.

“Y-you should have s-seen your face! Pfft-haaah ha ha ha!” Octavia joined in with nervous laughter, and even Rarity had to join in. The serving staff were all laughing as well, and the night was filled with the sound.

The dinner was spectacular, and Erica finished the night off by sealing the leftovers in containers that they could pack together for a picnic lunch some other time. They had laughed and talked and drank the night away, eating fantastic tropical food and sharing stories all around. Since Rarity and Octavia wanted to go dancing, Erica agreed to get them into the club she was DJ-ing at the following night free of charge. What’s more, she could do it surreptitiously, so they wouldn’t be mobbed by fans. Rarity found herself feeling rather excited for tomorrow night. But the alcohol was beginning to take effect. The bungalow spun around her, and her eyes began to droop. Octavia must have felt the same way, as she began insisting they go to sleep. Phillip, Erica, Jason, and the rest of the crew bid them farewell.

“Hmm. What a day.” Rarity groaned as she pulled her tank top off. The quiet of the bungalow was almost oppressive in the aftermath of the laughter, jokes, and conversation. She could only hear the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, and Octavia slipping out of her own clothes.

“I’m absolutely exhausted.” Octavia agreed, stepping out of her skirt. Their eyes met across the bed and both women smiled before shedding the last bits of clothing. Completely nude, they slipped under the thin sheets, pressing close in the darkness. Rarity wondered if she had enough in her to make love one more time. But the alcohol and her muscles said otherwise. Instead, she kissed Octavia’s lips deep and passionately before tucking her head under the cellist’s chin. Octavia wrapped her in a gentle hug, humming softly as her fingers ran through Rarity’s hair.

“Dancing tomorrow.” Rarity yawned.

“Dancing tomorrow indeed.” Octavia kissed the top of her head and resumed the soothing motion. Rarity was lulled to sleep by the gentle tugs on her scalp and the soft sound of waves on the sand. Once again, she did not dream. Even if she did, it would have had to have been a nightmare. Because nothing was as perfect as this.