Day 2, Sunday.
Jon stirred awake, a low groan rumbling from his throat as blinding light assaulted his senses. The bedroom blazed--overhead lights glaring, windows flung wide. Spring-break sun poured in, magnified by the dazzling white snow outside. His head throbbed, a dull, relentless ache pulsing behind his temples. His mouth felt like sandpaper, the taste of last night's tequila lingering sourly. He reached to his left, expecting Makayla's warm body, but his hand flailed--smacking the nightstand, brushing a scatter of pills, then landing on a tall, cold glass. Confusion creased his brow--he was on her side of the bed, dumped there last night before passing out cold. Squinting, he forced his eyes open, vision swimming into focus. Four Advil sat beside a vibrant green smoothie, its fresh fruit scent--pineapple, mango, a hint of kale--cutting through the stale air. He glanced right--her side was empty, sheets rumpled but cold.
From the closet came a rustle, then her familiar humming--a soft, upbeat pop tune also stuck in his head from the club scene the night before. Sitting up, he rubbed his temples, wincing as the headache spiked. He tried to piece together last night. Fragments flickered--laughter, shots, the club's thumping bass, a blur of Makayla's keg stand splitting the crowd wild, then the warmth of the pool. A fantastic blur, chaotic and thrilling, underpinned by his friends' support, their inclusion of him and Makayla, their fawning over her. Chris's toast replayed in his mind--praising his success, soothing that once gnawing insecurity of missing out on college with them. Through the hangover's fog, he smiled--today was going to be a good day.
Makayla emerged from the closet, wet hair brushing against her bare shoulders. A massive grin lit her face as she hauled a mountain of clothes--long johns, thick socks, undershirts, ski pants, a puffy jacket--all bundled in her arms. Only her beaming face and shins peeked out, her feet padding softly on the hardwood. Their eyes met, and her smile widened, mirrored by his own goofy, hungover grin.
"Baby, you're up!" she chirped, voice bright and teasing. "I bet you got a hangover from hell."
Jon nodded, grimacing.
"Yeah, Jesus, I'm still a little tipsy, and my head--God, it's throbbing," he said.
He grabbed the Advil, popping them into his mouth. He chased them with a sip of the smoothie--cool, sweet, a burst of relief sliding down his throat as he propped himself upright against the headboard.
She shuffled to the foot of the bed, in front of him, looking for a landing pad for her ski outfit as she spoke.
"Oh, poor baby, that smoothie should fix you right up," she said.
With a playful flourish, she dumped the clothes onto the mattress, revealing her fully naked body--full frontal, unfiltered, right in front of him. Her olive skin glowed in the harsh light, water beading on her collarbone. It trickled between her giant breasts--full and perky, light brown nipples puckered tight from the window's chill. Her smooth stomach dipped to her bare pussy, lips soft and inviting, framed by toned thighs still damp from her shower. Jon's jaw slackened, arousal surging through his haze--he'd never seen her like this, not with the lights blazing, not so brazenly bare. She caught his stare, shifting into a flirty, sultry pose--one hand on her hip, chest thrust forward, letting the sight linger. He swallowed hard, dick twitching under the sheets.
"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever set eyes on," he said, voice rough with awe.
She giggled, a light, bubbling sound, and stepped closer. Her confidence bloomed--a stark shift from the Makayla who'd hidden her full exposure from him before, always slipping into the closet to change, shying from bright lights.
"I hope you don't mind this side of me," she said, her tone playful yet edged with something deeper. "I feel really good in my skin, knowing the effect I have on you boys in real life--not just filtered social media pics with perfect lighting and editing."
Her words danced around her Instagram persona--that bold, booty-pic-posting vixen who thrived on male attention, a version of herself she'd only used as an escape, behind closed doors, until yesterday's chaos cracked it open. Jon's praise, the guys' reactions, her own pleasure--it had unleashed her vixen side, merging that online security with her in-person, flesh-and-blood self.
He grinned, simple and earnest.
"I love it," he said.
She glanced down, nodding at the tent in the sheets.
"Oh, I can tell," she said. "You walked around with a hard-on all night, and when I went down on you, you really took control--even talked dirty with me. You grabbed my head and humped my face. It was so hot!"
Jon perked up, searching his fuzzy memory, intrigued.
"Really?" he asked. "I talked dirty? Wow, I didn't think I had it in me."
She leaned closer, still naked, her wet hair brushing his arm.
"Oh my God, babe, it was so hot," she said.
He set the smoothie down, curiosity piqued.
"Well, fill me in," he said.
She plopped onto the bed beside him, bare ass sinking onto the sheets. She patted his dick beneath.
"Last night in the pool, after showing me off all night and getting your friends worked up, I wanted to rub it in their faces for you," she said. "So I crawled over to you, pulled down your pants, and sucked you off--you should have seen their faces."
Jon blinked, stunned.
"Wow, I, uh, I don't remember that at all," he said. "The guys... watched?"
He took another sip of the smoothie, processing, and playing with the idea--it sounded kind of good. She nodded, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Oh my God, baby, you should've seen it--they looked like zombies," she said. "They couldn't handle it and started wanking it."
Jon sat up fully, smoothie clinking back onto the nightstand, widening his eyes.
"You're telling me even Chris--the guy who probably hasn't jerked off in half a decade because of all the girls that fall in his lap--started wanking it to you sucking me off... in my lodge, in my pool?" he asked. "Holy shit, that's... something."
His mind spiraled, painting the picture--Chris, the college Casanova who'd flaunted threesomes and conquests, reduced to jerking off to Jon getting blown by Makayla in a multimillion-dollar lodge he partly owned. It hit like a thunderbolt--earth-shattering, confidence-soaring. That anchor of missing out, dragging him down for four years, dissolved in the glow of this mental image. Entirely unaware of how lost in thought Jon was as he replayed the scene in his head, focusing intently on the significance of what it all meant, no longer registering any further words, Makayla rambled on.
"It was so hot, I had to get myself off as I went down on you, and the guys couldn't handle it all and just started shooting off--even on me when you came in my mouth," she said. "I've never felt sexier or hornier in my life, totally comfortable nude in front of everyone. Oh, and Justin was, like, walking up to us, dick-in-hand with that look, you know, beating away..."
The words "Justin" and "dick" in close vicinity snapped Jon back to the conversation, brow furrowing.
"Wait, what?" he asked. "Naked? The guys cumming? Justin's dick?"
She waved a hand casually, knowing where this was going.
"Don't worry, you told Justin to back off, and he had to cum in a puddle on the side of the pool--looked like a toddler in time-out," she said.
Jon smirked at that, but pressed.
"Everyone was naked?" he asked. "You were naked?"
She nodded, unfazed.
"Yeah, it was all dark and cold, and we were all still in our going-out clothes," she said. "You jumped in unbothered, everyone followed, and I was basically drowning in my dress. You said you didn't want water in the house, so we had to eventually strip off. When I got your clothes off, I saw your dick and their eyes, I just had to go for it."
Jon's stomach churned at first--his friends seeing her naked?--but the darkness eased it some. Then the image hit: those smooth-talking, girl-chasing buddies, after years of wild orgies and a prime college experience, whipping their dicks out in the freezing cold to wank to his girl blowing him. That is just too good. He grinned at the thought as Makayla watched his face. She spotted the initial flicker of concern before it melted away.
"Is that okay?" she asked, tentative. "I was trying to get you your fun little revenge."
He cut her off, beaming.
"Babe, you're fucking perfect," he said. "This is crazy--this week's gonna be so much fun. I love you!"
She smiled, leaning in to kiss him--soft, warm, a spark igniting.
She pulled the covers back, exposing his hard-on--shaft rigid, head flushed pink--and started at his balls. Her tongue flicked slow and wet up the seam, tasting chlorine and skin. He watched, disbelief flooding him as she licked up to the tip. The show was blatant in the bright light--a sight he'd never gotten before. She took him in, lips wrapping tight, sucking slow and sensual--eyes locked on his, wide with surprise and lust. Her tits swayed as she bent over, straddling his legs, ass high. The door swung open, Chris's voice booming.
"Is the big guy up yet?" he asked.
He froze, mid-step, at the sight of Makayla--bent over, nude, dick in mouth, her pussy and ass splayed toward him in the stark light.
"God, that sight's so much better sober and during the day," he said, grinning.
Jon jolted, yanked from pleasure.
"Whoa, bro, come on--knock!" he said.
Chris raised his hands, with a happy-for-you kind of look.
"Oh, sorry, I don't want to spoil the fun," he said.
He backed out, closing the door with a click.
Makayla giggled, pulling off with a wet smack.
"Poor guy's gonna have to get used to seeing your dick in my mouth... maybe some other places," she said.
Jon's eyes widened, mind racing--Chris had just seen her ass, her pussy, bent over in full glory, a view Jon hadn't even claimed yet. But her words--"poor guy," "get used to it"--flipped the script. Chris had now seen her, not ideal, but Jon had seen him, the look in his eyes, what he needed through these past 4 alienated years, envious in a brotherly way--proud, not resentment. Jon relaxed, smiling.
"Hah, yeah, I guess he does," he said.
He kissed her forehead.
"Let's join them--I'll fuck the shit out of you tonight instead of spoiling the day too early," he said.
She giggled.
"Alright, let's booze and cruise the slopes," she said, and grabbed her long johns, slipping them on--tight white fabric hugging her curves, nipples poking through as she dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, they descended the stairs into the kitchen--Jon in ski pants and a thin undershirt, coat slung over his arm, Makayla matching, her tight white top accentuating her erect nipples. The guys lounged at the island bar--snow pants on, undershirts loose, coats draped over the couch--beers in hand. A cheer rose as they spotted Jon.
"There he is--the king of the night!" Joe called.
Adam grinned.
"How was the morning BJ?" he asked.
