<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/ixPeHzf.jpg)</div><em>"That works wonders for the view," </em>Monica murmured softly.  It did.  His hands molding themselves to her body in front and the hard press of his groin against her ass and back turned the sky and sea to molten velvet, which seemed to fit wonderfully with the sensations the contact produced.  It seemed that much of Gabriel's shyness was produced by a worry that he was going to assume too much or go too fast, and she'd just removed whatever uncertainty remained that it'd been too easy.<br/><br/><em>"I never did really understand the concept of making a man work to get lucky ... is that still something it's called?  It doesn't matter if we use the popular word for it as long as we both understand the meaning, though.  I'd made up my mind what I wanted by the end of the first sentence, and I'm pretty sure you had too. So why not save the work for something more important?"</em><br/><br/>His permission, so sweetly proper, to use both hands on him too prompted a smile, and a wicked gleam in her eyes that was mostly lost, given that there was noone close enough in the right direction to see it.  That was all right, though, because sometimes a little little wickedness was better when it had had time to grow from a gleam into a blaze, and they were just getting started -- though the pace of the start seemed to have picked up.<br/><br/>So far, it certainly seemed that they had reached an easy rapport, and there was no hesitation in the pull of her top's tie, or in the mouth that found her neck, and bit down to scrape along the bared shoulder while their hips settled into a slow bump and grind, adding heat.  The sipper slid down, coaxed by his hand, which Monica considered an acceptable use of a hand, especially as the other showed no reluctance to stop cupping and squeezing. If she stopped admiring the view, she could clearly see the movements of that busy hand, setting the slick fabric of the now loose top to something of an erotic peep show, concealing the particulars while leaving nothing more to the imagination as he tugged at her nipples.<br/><br/><em>"They're 'come hither' nipples," </em>she teased with a low chuckle, feeling a quiver of anticipation as he offered a brazen hint of what he wanted to do next.  Without a bra, and decent AC, they were no more shy about getting noticed than Monica herself.<em>"And so I've been told, but I'd love to have another opinion."  </em>Her nipples were large, and the breasts nicely firm.  A little work had done wonders to fight the effects of gravity, and had had the after-effect of making those large nipples that had roused his curiosity and perhaps something of the swell that pressed into her stretched-tight skirt-back and the curves below as well even more sensitive than they'd been before.  It was a win-win, and she was more than happy to satisfy Gabe's curiosity on that score, and just about any other.<br/><br/>Since her drink had been put down out of the way, and the view -- even molten velvet as it was -- could only be improved by getting naked, she was more than happy to respond to the tactile urging, though as she turned her hands first slid up to the button closure of the halter and unfastened it before the garment ended up fluttering from the balcony to the beach below.  It had been worn mostly to be taken off, and for the moment it had served its purpose.  Deliberately, she hooked the halter around one of the convenient supports for the railing, and then turned, shoulders held high and back straight -- even if she was relatively sure that the girls could go up against any half her age, there was nothing wrong with taking pride enough not to slouch.<br/><br/>She wasn't overly concerned with the other couple inside anymore, and she figured that they were both well old enough to decide what they wanted to do and who they wanted to do it with, so at least for now she'd leave them to it unless somebody yelled for help or an overloud, and overly-close, clearing of throats or some other indication that things were not progressing like everybody hoped they would.<br/><br/><em>"There now."</em>She leaned her ass back against the railing, and put her hands on his wrists and slid them up, admiring the shape mostly by sense of feel while she smiled up into his face, which was already showing some of those lovely signs of dissolution into desire.  Knowing where they were going lessened the immediate urgency, allowing them both to enjoy more of the journey, even if it was as close as the waves lapping against the sand below.<em>"Though I think you're over-dressed for the occasion now.  Let me help you with that ... and I'll definitely use both hands."<br/></em><br/>Her skirt, even with the zipper pulled down as low as it would go, showed no signs of slipping down over her hips.  It'd need coaxing down or peeling off, but that was by design as well, not so much as making him work for it as focusing his attention.  His jeans were tight enough to show off a nice ass, and legs that'd look good in swimming trunks on the beach and even better without, but they'd slide down without too much encouragement. Once her hands had slid up to his biceps and back down, fingers slid off and hooked into his t-shirt, and began the process of working it up from the front, thumbs splayed to bunch the fabric while her fingers worked up from beneath, sliding slowly on skin.<br/><em><br/>"So ... Gabriel ... should we start aiming for a dark corner before much more comes off, or are you feeling daring?   I confess to having just a tiny bit of an exhibitionist streak in me.  If I didn't like shopping for clothes so much, I wouldn't mind being a nudist -- though there's something just so fun about getting clothes off, don't you think?"</em><br/><br/>She was definitely having fun, and this view was every bit as interesting as the one now at her back, and just as magnificent in its own way.