Pina Colada: Lusting After The Lifeguard

Brody is still half hard, pants around his thighs, when the frantic bar manager charges in waving an empty velvet box. "Someone swiped the bracelet," he hisses. Across the lobby Lumi Ray—the only lifeguard allowed to wear a sundress as a uniform—squints straight at Brody like she already knows his screw-up score. He flashes his trademark grin, throws out, "I’ll do anything to help you," and two elevator rides later they’re wedged in the rooftop jacuzzi room with her bare thigh straddling the jet stream. No lube in the cabinet, she spits on his dick and sinks down, snorkel still dangling around her neck like an absurd necklace. Water sloshes over tile, her toned legs paddle forward, and the sleek platinum bracelet slips from the discarded sundress pocket, catches the jet, and orbits both their hips like it wants in on the action. They hit the simultaneous mess right as the jacuzzi cycles off, and Brody groans out, "At least I found the bracelet."