Emma spent the week replaying the hot-tub night in her head, the stretch of three cocks, the taste of cum still ghosting on her tongue when she came alone in her bed. By Friday Chloe’s message arrived: Mountains this time. Big group of backpackers. Cabin. Hot springs nearby. Wear something soft.
She packed light. A thin cream linen dress that clung when it got damp, nothing underneath, a soft cardigan she knew she’d lose early, and the same gold chain. The drive up into the hinterland took just over an hour; the air cooled, the trees thickened, and the last stretch of dirt road opened onto a sprawling wooden cabin with wide decks and the low murmur of voices and acoustic guitar.
There were more people than she expected — maybe twenty, mostly backpackers from Europe, South America, and a few Australians who’d drifted up for the weekend. The light was golden and low. Someone had strung soft fairy lights through the trees. The air smelled of woodsmoke, pine, and skin that had been in the sun all day.
Emma stepped out of the car and the dress moved against her bare body like a second skin. Heads turned again, but slower this time. Less party frenzy, more quiet hunger.
Chloe met her with a long hug that lingered, lips brushing her ear. “They’re friendly,” she murmured. “Very friendly.”
The evening unfolded like warm honey.
They started on the wide back deck with wine and low conversation. A tall Swedish guy named Erik with sun-bleached hair and calm blue eyes offered her a glass and didn’t look away when the breeze pressed the linen against her nipples. A Brazilian couple — Camila and Theo — sat close on a low couch, Camila’s hand resting high on Theo’s thigh while she watched Emma with open curiosity. Two French girls, Léa and Inès, shared a blanket and kept glancing over. A quiet Kiwi named Josh with freckles across his shoulders smiled every time their eyes met.
As the sky deepened, someone suggested the natural hot springs a short walk down a mossy path. Lanterns were lit. Bare feet on cool earth. Emma’s dress caught on a branch once and rode up; she didn’t bother pulling it down.
The springs were perfect — three connected rock pools of different temperatures, steam rising into the dark trees, the sound of water moving over stone. Clothes came off without ceremony. Emma let the linen dress fall and stepped into the middle pool naked. The water was silky and hot against her skin. Bodies followed.
It was nothing like the frantic hot-tub night. Everything moved slower.
Erik came up behind her first, chest against her back, hands sliding under the water to rest on her hips. He didn’t push. He just held her there while Camila drifted in front and kissed her — soft, open-mouthed, tasting of red wine. Theo watched for a long moment before moving in to kiss his girlfriend’s neck while his hand found Emma’s breast, thumb circling the nipple with patient pressure until it ached.
Léa and Inès joined from the side, their bodies slick and warm. Four pairs of hands eventually mapped her: slow strokes down her stomach, fingers tracing the insides of her thighs, palms cupping her arse and spreading her gently under the water. Someone’s mouth found her nipple and sucked with languid pulls. Another mouth — Camila’s — kissed lower, then lower still, until Emma was guided to sit on a smooth underwater ledge and Camila’s tongue was between her legs, licking her open with long, deliberate strokes while the others held her steady.
Emma came the first time like that — quiet, shaking, water lapping at her ribs — with Camila’s tongue working her clit and Erik’s fingers inside her, curling slowly.
They shifted and rearranged without anyone needing to speak much. Emma ended up straddling Theo while Camila kissed her from the side and Léa’s hand slid between their bodies to rub her clit. Theo’s cock was thick and warm; she sank down onto it inch by inch, feeling every ridge, every pulse, while the French girls took turns kissing her mouth and sucking her nipples. Josh watched from the edge of the pool for a while, stroking himself slowly, until Emma reached for him and guided him to her lips. She sucked him with the same unhurried rhythm the rest of the night had taken — deep, wet, eyes half-closed.
Later she was on her hands and knees on a flat warm rock just above the waterline, steam curling around her. Erik fucked her from behind with long, deep strokes while Inès lay beneath her, licking her clit and the place where Erik’s cock stretched her open. Camila sat in front and fed Emma her pussy, rolling her hips in slow circles. Theo and Josh took turns in her mouth. Every time one of them came it was with a low groan and a spill of heat across her tongue or over her back, and the women would lean in to lick it clean.
The most sensual stretch came near the end.
They arranged her floating on her back in the warmest pool, supported by hands under her shoulders and knees. Three of the men took turns sliding into her — one in her pussy, one waiting at her mouth, one stroking himself against her thigh — while the women kissed every part of her they could reach. Camila and Léa sucked her nipples in perfect slow unison. Inès kissed her throat and whispered filthy, soft things in French. When the men finished it was almost together again: one filling her mouth, one pulsing deep in her cunt, the third painting thick ropes across her stomach and tits. The women immediately began to clean her with their tongues — long, careful licks that gathered every drop and shared it between them in deep kisses over her body.
Emma floated there afterwards, boneless, skin hypersensitive, the night air cool on her wet breasts and the taste of several people still in her mouth. Someone wrapped a big soft towel around her. Someone else passed her water. The guitar started up again in the distance.
They drifted back to the cabin in ones and twos. Some people disappeared into rooms. Emma ended up on a wide daybed on the deck under a thick blanket with Camila on one side and Léa on the other, their bare legs tangled, fingers still occasionally stroking whatever skin they could reach. Erik sat nearby smoking a joint and watching them with quiet satisfaction. Chloe appeared at some point, kissed Emma’s forehead, and whispered, “Told you.”
She fell asleep to the sound of the forest and the slow breathing of the bodies pressed against her.
Morning came soft and gold. Coffee on the deck. Naked bodies moving without self-consciousness. Emma’s thighs still ached in the best way, and when Camila caught her eye across the table and smiled, she already knew she wouldn’t be heading back to Brisbane until Monday.
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