I think we were all getting tired. I mean really tired: getting up early to enjoy most of the perfect winter days on this mountain, skiing all day, partying just about every night and doing our best to sleep in a cabin full of people... Not easy. The first two or three days and nights were fine, but now, at the end of this wonderful spring break week, the signs of fatigue were more and more evident.
And for my girlfriend Cassandra and me, signs of sexual needs were also quite obvious. The week had been nearly perfect all around, but living in close quarters with five other people for that long means that your "alone time" will be severely restricted. There were two rooms in the cabin, each with two double beds. Four of our friends were in the other room, two guys and two girls, but not couples. Everybody had thought that spontaneous couples would be forming during the week, but it didn't happen. So the girls shared a bed, and the guys were forced to do the same.
In our room Cassandra and I slept together, and Peach had the other bed to herself. "Peach" wasn't her real name, obviously, but everybody called her by that nickname. I'm not sure where it came from, but from what I can gather it's a French play on words with the word "sin". For some obscure situation, to which I'm not privy to, Cassandra and her came up with the name a few years ago, and it stuck.
In any case, Peach was the reason we were all here. We all enjoyed skiing, but, hadn't it been for Peach, there would have been other alternatives we could have considered for our spring break. She really was, still is, a ski buff. As soon as the first snowflakes appear until you can ski in your bikini, Peach is on the slopes. College barely put a dent in her ski time. She was well known in the dozen closest ski resorts around our college.
She was also well liked, especially by men. Oh the women liked her too, because she was so charming, generous and always smiling. But she was also living up to many ski fantasies: she had the lean athletic body of someone who had both a narcissist streak and truly enjoyed sports. Long legs, firm thighs and ass; a flat, nearly chiseled abdomen, strong shoulders and a very nice pair of breasts to cap it all off. She also liked to flaunt her body. Well, maybe "flaunt" is too strong a word. She liked to show it, for sure.
Her breasts were somewhat of a surprise for me. I'm a breast man, an unrepenting lover of large breasts. Hers were not small by any means, but nor could they be called big. They were 34Cs to be exact. I learned that three days ago, during a rare moment where I was nearly alone in the cabin. But before getting into that, I have to point out that Peach's body really is in top condition. She's about five foot nine, only a few inches shorter than me, and while she excels at all kinds of sport, she nobody would ever call her a tomboy now. Her adolescent growth spurt freed her from that permanently. She was lean and tight, and her breasts looked like they exploded from her chest by mistake. Not that I had ever checked per se, but compared to my hands, they were relatively small. As I said, I like large breasts. Like my girlfriends; 32EE. But in proportion to Peach's slim frame, they were very noticeable. Very.
Now, how did I discover their exact size? While Julia was in the shower on our second day here, and everybody else was outside, I snuck-in to our own room and found a couple of Peach's very nice bras in her stuff.
She wasn't a particularly private person, few narcissists are, nor someone you could called orderly: finding those two bras meant barely more than looking around to her part of the room. I did find a few sports bras, but two others that were definitely not designed for intense activity. One of them was a classic, deep green, lose-lace type. Little flowers of a deep red-wine color were stitched between the cups and on the straps. Closing my eyes, I imagined her wearing this, her long straight black hair flowing over and around. It would be quite a sight. I'd seen Peach in a bikini a few times already, including three late evenings in the cabin's jacuzzi, but this would be something quite different.
Before Julia stopped the water, I also looked at the other bra. If you can call it a bra. It was a sex-toy half-cup thing, with the bottom part in a very transparent material. All black. Now, imagining Peach with this bra gave an entirely different image. Seeing that her nipples were pretty high and prominent, that flimsy bra wouldn't hide them at all. The metal underwire would serve to push her breasts even higher on her chest, transforming then from beautiful globes of flesh into raw sex objects. When I heard Julia walk out of the bathroom I got up quickly and busied myself in my bag. I waited for my erection to subside, found my parka then went outside to get ready to leave.
Back to tonight, the last night here for all os us, Cassandra made me forget about all that. We were in one of the rented cars, with John driving, Peach sitting in front next to him, while Cassandra and I in the backseat. To be more precise, Cassandra had her hand on my thigh. My utmost upper thigh. Actually, she was touching the side of my cock through my pants. Most of us only wore "ski pants" under our suits, essentially thermal PJs. At the end of the day, we all throw our suits in the trunks and ride home wearing those pants. Those very stretchy pants.
Cassandra and I hadn't had sex for a long while. Just about two weeks now. Her period had ended just before coming here, and at first we thought that it was great timing. Little details like this could ruin romantic week-ends. But when we saw that we wouldn't be alone in a room, our plans changed. Having sex on the other side of very thin walls is one thing, but having sex in the same room as your girlfriend's best friend is quite another. And while Cassandra and Peach were just as different "inside" as their bodies were different (Cassandra was an all-women woman: don't worry, you'll be meeting her body soon enough!), they hooked up during high-school and never let go.
But back to the sexual need problem. I truly was in need: it was all I could do "not" to think about fucking Cassandra all day long. And now, the the darkness of this car, here she was teasing my cock through very thin pants. We looked at each other, smiled, and I decided to return the favor. When I spread the unused blanket over our bodies, Cassandra grinned, knowing what was about to come. Yet that grin disappeared in surprise when my hand moved from her thigh to her pelvis, then up to her belly to allow my fingers to slip under the thermal PJs. No panties were in the way.
Her eyes grew wide open and she looked at John and Peach in front. I looked too, and they were still in conversation: maybe Peach had her eyes on him, one of her bras reserved for him later tonight? In any case, my hand was now sliding down through Cassandra's small bush and I found her pussy already hot and wet. She'd undoubtedly spent the day thinking about sex as well. I was not about to waste any time, since I knew we only had about ten minutes before arriving.
I also knew exactly how Cassandra liked to be caressed. I pressed my entire hand on her mound and closed my four fingers on her labia. The tip of my middle finger was right above her whole, which would have been wet enough to let my cock all the way in without problem. But, like most women I'd known, Cassandra didn't enjoy having fingers inside her nearly as much as feeling them playing with her clit. First step: I started moving my hand sideways, back and forth, forcing her lips to roll over and against her clit.
I saw her biting her lower lips. She also threw her head against he headrest, and arched her back. Even in the dark, even under dark blue PJs, even with a sports bra, I saw her great breasts rising in the moonlight. Trying the gage her state and the remaining time, I increased the pressure of my whole hand very slightly. Then Peach turned around and asked Cassandra a question. To which she had to choice to respond with:
"What?"
"Do you guys think you'd like to come back next year?" She had turned her head just for a few seconds, and was now back in her seat.
I was forced to reply, while Cassandra was trying to remove my hand. "Sure! Why not? I think we enjoyed both the mountain, the jacuzzi and the people here. Haven't we, Honey?"
If her intent was pretty clear: remove your hand and let me speak coherently, the lack of strength in her hands was telling me and different story: keep going, I'm enjoying this public thing.
"Yep." was all Cassandra could actually say.
"Nice! I'm starting to know the manager here and I'm sure we could have one of the bigger cabins for the same price next year. "
The look John gave her when she mentioned the manager, who happened to be tall and hunky and the object of all the women's attention, told a lot. Maybe he was interested in Peach, not the other way around.
But right now neither me nor Cassandra could have cared less about that. I had changed my movements: then sideways; now up and down. And from time to time I would plunge my middle finger inside her.
