Cruzing on the Danube

Valentina Cruz boarded the speedboat in a white bikini that barely contained her curves. Sunlight hit her olive skin and the man behind the wheel grinned like he already knew what was coming. He looked good, money looked good on him, and she wanted to taste every bit of it before the season ended. She slid closer, let her hand drift over his thigh, and felt the engine throb between her legs as the boat carved through the river. When he cut the throttle, she sank to her knees on the sun-warmed deck, tugged his shorts down, and took him in her mouth. Her tongue moved slow at first, then deeper, wetter, until her full breasts spilled from the bikini top and brushed his skin with every bob of her head. She kept her eyes on his while she worked, lips tight, saliva glistening in the light, enjoying the way his fingers threaded through her dark hair. The boat rocked gently. Her mouth never slowed. She took her time, savoring the heat of him, the taste of salt and sunblock, the quiet sound of the water lapping against the hull. When she pulled back for breath, a strand of spit stretched between her lower lip and his glistening cock, then she leaned in again, hungry for more.