After seven harrowing hours on barely built European roads, my best friend and I arrived at the thermal spring in need of some tension release. I just didn’t realise how much.
Sinking into the warm water with its supposed healing properties washing over my skin, a voice called down to me.
“Is it hot?” it said with a German accent.
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I looked up to catch two men walking down the footpath towards us. The first who spoke was shirtless, tanned and athletic with a rippling of thick chest hair and stubble to match.
By the time they’d gotten in, the conversation was flowing between the four of us, so when they later asked us out for dinner, our answer was yes. Just me, the German, my bestie and the local.
Pouring red wine into our glasses, the evening slipped away amid a mix of traditional recipes and homemade rakia. Walking the cobbled streets afterwards, we sipped cold beers and devoured European chocolate before it melted in our sweaty palms.
The drinking game was my idea. As if that was what we needed. Back at their apartment, cards fanned out in a circle, we debated the rules of Kings Cup, making up our own as we went or substituting in Never Have I Ever questions that always ended up sexual.
It was after 3am by the time my eyes fluttered open, having fallen asleep with my head on a pillow on the German’s lap. I could hear the others lost in conversation on the other couch before the lips above me reached down to find my own.
Holding my head, he was soft and gentle, awakening every inch of me. While my best friend and the local laughed and snuck off to the second bedroom, the kissing intensified as our hunger grew.
Pulling me closer, his hands ran up my body across the thin cotton of my top, before I whispered, ‘the bedroom?’
He followed me towards the bed, before propping himself over me to remove each piece of my outfit. Naked and warm underneath his touch, I softened into the mattress as my hand made its way into his jeans before tugging them off.
Wrapped up and engulfed in each other as dawn crept on, we came again and again as he kept coming back for more.
After returning to our own, unslept-in hotel room later that morning, my best friend and I grabbed our bikinis and car keys before heading off after the boys. Within half an hour we were on the edge of the forest, at the beginning of the single footpath that led in.
As the midday sun bore down on our faces, clothing was stripped off as the four of us made our way towards the blue lagoon, a hidden bay alongside the river.
Plunging in, the ice-cold water took my breath away but did little to extinguish the simmering heat as memories of the morning continued to play out in my mind.
Snatching kisses here and there as more people arrived to douse themselves in the pool, the strain between the German and I was palpable, until the moment we let ourselves get left behind while the other two walked back to the cars.
But surrounded by dense bush on either side of the wide footpath, there was nowhere to go. Desperate, we crept over twigs and sticks in an attempt to be hidden from any unsuspecting hikers. At least facing the footpath, we would see them coming.
Wrapping his mouth around mine, he pulled at the drawstring of his board shorts before I turned around to lean on a power pole, my hands gripping the wood in anticipation. With expert fingers, he slipped my bikini bottoms to the side, as he moved into me with one swift motion.
In a frenzied passion, fearing that someone would walk past at any moment, he pushed in and out until letting go, grabbing my hip tight with one hand with the other squeezed at my chest.
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Panting, sweating and pulling ourselves back together, we hurried up the path, running to catch up with our friends as if we’d never left them.
But as the minutes ticked on, and with the end of the track veering closer, it was clear we hadn’t had enough of each other. So when the path curved left, we dashed back into the shrubs. This time, there were clearings and spaces between trees. Laying down a beach towel, I asked him to sit before climbing onto his lap, my body straddling his.
On top, I felt everything as I eased myself down, pleasure radiating through every nerve. With a hand over my mouth in an attempt to mute any sound that might escape, I moved up and down, backwards and forwards, before letting myself come undone.
Two days later, my best friend and I met up with the boys again in another town on the other side of the country. We were flying out that night and as the last of the European heat trickled down my face, I lay caught up in the German’s bedsheets, breathless and spent.
Tans may fade, but sexy memories last forever.
Image: Getty + Mamamia.
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