The humid air clung to my skin as I stepped barefoot onto the sun-warmed stones of the villa’s terrace. We’d been on Lesbos for three days, just me and my best friend Lina, and something between us had shifted. The way she looked at me now — slow, hungry, deliberate — made my pulse throb low in my belly. I told myself it was the wine, the freedom, the island magic. But the truth was, I wanted her. Badly.
That night, she walked into my room with a small black case in hand. Her hips swayed under a silk robe that barely covered her thighs. “You’ve never seen one of these, have you?” she whispered, setting the case on the bed.
My breath hitched as she opened it. Nestled in velvet was a sleek, rose-gold vibrator — curved, thick at the base, tapered to a teasing point. It looked like art. Like sin. Like it was made to ruin me.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, voice trembling.
She climbed onto the bed, the robe slipping off one shoulder. “Does it matter? What matters is… I’ve been dreaming about using it on you.”
My thighs clenched. “On me?”
“You’ve been watching me all week,” she said, stroking the toy like it was alive. “Biting your lip when I stretch in the morning. Flushing when I touch you. You think I haven’t noticed?” Her eyes burned into mine. “You’re already wet, aren’t you?”
She was right. I was soaked.
Lina lifted the toy, pressing the button. It hummed to life — deep, powerful, vibrating through the room like a promise. She brought it to my inner thigh, letting the pulsations tease my skin without touching where I needed it most.
“Tell me you want it,” she murmured.
“I… I want it,” I gasped.
“Not just the toy,” she corrected. “You want me. Say it.”
“I want you, Lina. Please.”
She smiled — slow, victorious — and finally dragged the warm, buzzing tip over my clit. I cried out, back arching. The sensation was electric, overwhelming, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.
She teased me open, spreading my folds, and slowly pushed the curved end inside. I moaned, deep and guttural, as the vibrations radiated through every nerve. “Fuck… yes… right there…”
But then she pulled back. “Wait,” she said, eyes dark. “This feels better… when you’re watching me.”
She straddled me, reversed, so I faced her glistening pussy as she lowered the toy onto her own swollen clit. My hands found her hips, holding on as she ground against it, moaning my name. I couldn’t stop myself — I leaned up and licked her, tasting salt and arousal, feeling the vibrations from the toy shiver through my tongue.
She screamed, bucking, grinding harder. “Oh god, yes — suck me while I use it! Feel how wet I get for you!”
The toy slipped inside her, deep and relentless, while I devoured her. We moved together — her riding the vibrator, me feasting on her heat — until we both shattered, screaming into the Aegean night.
After, she collapsed beside me, breathless, the toy still pulsing faintly in her hand. “You’re mine now,” she whispered, kissing my neck. “This island… this toy… me. You’ll never go back.”
And I knew she was right.
Because once you’ve felt a woman’s pleasure — raw, unfiltered, shared with another — nothing else will ever satisfy.
Not ever.
