These are parts 3 and 4 of the story about Jules and Layla. You can read these chapters as a separate story, however, I recommend you start with the first two chapters to see how the two of them met. Enjoy!
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Chapter 3
It was hot. I was lounging in the sun in my favourite blue bikini, taking the occasional sip from my water bottle and gazing at the frenzy of activity around me. Why did swimming pools always have to be so crowded?
Toddlers crawling away from their parents' blankets, teens flaunting their pre-pubescent bodies in skimpy swimwear, old men with hairy backs and way too tiny speedos, bulky dudes with steroid-filled biceps (and ridiculously skinny legs)... And women.
Women of all shapes and sizes. Muscular ones with flat bellies and well-toned arms and legs. Curvy ones with full breasts and asses that pretty much begged to be squeezed. Blondes and brunettes and gingers and black-haired women, with porcelain and café au lait skin, adorned with freckles and tattoos and jewellery.
They all ran around wearing as little as possible, to avoid unwanted tan lines. While men's gawking eyes clearly bothered the majority of the women, a woman's gaze didn't, because they weren't perceived as drooling predators.
I hated the large crowds of people in a public swimming pool, but I couldn't deny the fact that this allowed me to indulge in the view of half-naked women all day without restraint, and that I liked this very much. (I also guessed this was the same reason guys went to swimming pools in summer time.)
My eyes fixed on one particular woman strolling over the lawn in my direction. She was wearing cut-off jeans and a light blue top knotted above her bellybutton. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was carrying a tote bag over her shoulder.
Her small breasts moved seductively under the thin fabric of her top - she was not wearing a bra, I was sure. I could feel my mouth getting dry, all the wetness gathering elsewhere, as I stared at her gently swaying boobs. With a regretful sigh I finally tore my eyes away from that tantalising sight and looked up into her face just when she stopped in front of me.
"There you are," Jules said. She pulled a beach towel from her tote and spread it on the dry grass next to mine. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I thought you'd be closer to the pool."
"Sorry," I replied and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before letting her unpack her stuff. "I thought I'd texted you I was next to this big tree over here."
Jules huffed. "Well, you didn't."
She pouted, a little too over the top for me to take it seriously, and I laughed and pulled her in for another kiss, this time on the lips.
"How can I ever make it up to you?" I whispered against her lips.
I was tempted to start making it up in my very own way right there and then, by letting my lips wander further, kissing along her jawline down to her earlobe, then nibbling softly on her neck before trailing down to her collarbone, and maybe even further, to her sensitive buds that were already pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt...
But I didn't, because I was afraid she'd uncomfortably shrug me off like she had the first two times I'd attempted this in public, too self-conscious or embarrassed or whatever.
We'd been seeing each other regularly for three weeks now, and while I did my best to stay patient, to give her time to acclimatise to this new kind of relationship that was so entirely out of her box, I also couldn't help but notice that so far all of our dates had taken place in secluded locations where no one could see us.
There had been a bike tour through the vast natural reserve north of the city where you hardly ever crossed paths with anyone else (topped off with a make-out session pressed against a tree trunk).
There had been a hike in the nearby mountains along a less popular trail (where I went down on her on a hidden stone platform that overlooked the valley).
There had been a lazy day spent on the riverbank, in a lonely spot far from where families usually had their picnics (here tanning on my picnic blanket had turned into a session of getting each other off through our bikini panties).
There had been a cinema date where we had sat in the last row of the small cinema hall, behind everyone else (and made out as soon as the lights turned off).
And then of course there had been many dates that were nothing but 'Netflix and chill', minus the Netflix part.
While this was all great and I really enjoyed the sexual chemistry we undeniably had, I still wondered if she would continue to keep whatever this was a secret.
We hadn't had 'the talk' yet. I was kind of waiting for her to bring up the topic, since I didn't want to rush her. But I was also curious about the parts of her life that she was keeping me from: her friends and family, her work, hell, even her apartment.
"She needs time," I told myself repeatedly. "She's never been with a woman before. She's probably still struggling with her sexual identity somewhere in the back of her mind."
But it was getting increasingly difficult to silence the voice in my mind that was wondering if she even wanted to be in a serious relationship with me.
Jules' voice pulled me out of my line of thoughts.
"How can you make it up to me? Hm, let me see... For now, putting some lotion on my back would be a good start."
I smirked and held out a hand for her bottle of sunscreen. She knew far too well that I wouldn't pass up on this opportunity to touch her.
"You better get rid of those clothes then, young lady," I commanded in my best creepy-professor-voice.
She chuckled, then pulled the top over her head. She wore a strapless bikini top, the olive green of the fabric complimenting her fair complexion beautifully. I had been wrong about the no-bra-assumption after all, but it was a mistake I could live with.
She stood up and stripped down her shorts, folded the clothing neatly (she could be so endearingly, stereotypically German sometimes) and lay down on her stomach on her towel next to me. I got up on my knees, squeezed some sunscreen into my hands and started to spread it onto her back.
Being a little more thorough than necessary, I massaged the lotion into her neck and shoulders, feeling her relax under my hands, letting out soft sighs of pleasure. When I reached her lower back it took all my willpower to restrain from massaging the sunscreen into places that she would most certainly not be tanning today. Her small, round butt tempted me to slide my hands under her bikini bottoms.
I had to make a mental note: massage her next time we were in bed together. The idea turned me on endlessly. I could get some oil and turn her body into a wonderful, slippery, willing piece of flesh with my hands. I knew I was good at this, I had gotten respective feedback several times.
While I was putting lotion on her legs (being aware of the fact she could have done it herself, but still enjoying the possibility of doing it), I imagined the whole thing.