I am Maya, twenty-three, and I had landed my dream job in the UK, trading Mumbai’s chaos for London’s allure. My salary is a fortune, my life pure luxury. That offer letter had freed me. Three months before leaving India, I went wild. College Maya had been all books, no boys, a virgin. But in those three months, I unleashed my kinky, bold side, lost my virginity – Na… I unlocked my inner world. Those stories faded now.

After a year in London, work consumed me. Missed emails, sloppy reports—I was slipping. My fire dimmed. India tempted me, but marriage talk and aunties prodding about babies repelled me. Then Mehta Uncle, HR by day, Uncle off-hours, offered a lifeline: “Scottish Isles retreat, Maya. All paid. Magic.” His grin convinced me.

I booked it, paid, and messaged my friends for safety. On a yacht slicing through fog, my heart pounded with hope and a naughty spark. I leaned on the rail, wind tugging my hair, fingers grazing my neckline. I hoped the island would reignite me.

Week 1: My Naked Paradise

My toes hit the island’s sand, freedom surging. The retreat’s rule was one person per island for a week. My island had a beach villa—food, wine, an SOS number. Other islands dotted the horizon, but this was my domain.

As the yacht left, I unpacked, slipped into a yellow sundress, and grabbed binoculars to explore. I found hammocks, umbrellas, a tent house, and an outdoor shower. A small cliff served as a viewpoint, perfect for diving. I climbed up, scanned distant islands. A shallow pool nibbled my feet—a fish foot spa, tickling wildly.

A couple of days later, I settled in, ditched the sundress for a bikini. Through binoculars, I saw others, some nude, sunbathing freely. I craved that but hesitated. I waded hip-deep, practiced swimming. Under the outdoor shower, I dropped my bikini, bathed nude. First time in my life I am bathing nude under the open sky.

By the next day, I hated clothes and roamed nude everywhere—beach, tent house, cliff. On the viewpoint, I scanned with binoculars and spotted an English guy, athletic, peering through a telescope at me. I presented myself nude this distant stranger.

In the villa, I collapsed with fingers between my thighs. I imagined him watching. Week one gone! The organizers called: week two, I could switch islands or host a guest. As I don’t want to miss my freedom here, I stayed back.

Week 2: A Game of Glances

The yacht arrived.  The guest stepped ashore: The telescope guy, 5’8” to my 5’4”, lean, tousled hair, in a white shirt and khaki shorts.

“Hi, I’m Trevor,” he offered a hand, acting like a stranger.

I grinned, shook it. “Maya. Nice to meet you.” Let’s see his game.

For two days, we roamed the beach, swapped stories about his rugby scars and my Mumbai life. Evenings, we grilled fish, sipped wine, and crashed in hammocks.

Day three, I wore a spaghetti top revealing the shape of my boobs and a denim shorts. No bra, no panties. We did our routine, while Trevor felt the difference in my dare. I fell for me.  But I acted casual.
Later at night, in my hammock, my top slipped a bit to show ample boobs and revealed my areola, barring my nipples. The moonlight was good enough to play with his mind.  Trevor’s eyes strained, but he stayed put.

At dawn, I stretched, top riding up. “Morning, Want to catch the sunrise?”

I took him to the cliff. “Did you watch me from your island?” I pointed at his old island.

“That wasn’t me, Maya. It was my twin, Ethan.”

 “You have a twin?”

“Identical,” he grinned. “He recommended your island for me.”

“Why?” I pressed.

“No idea,” he shrugged. “Can we dive? 30 maybe 40 feet, safe.”

 “From here!?”

“Trust me,” he stripped to his trunks, chest gleaming.

“Don’t laugh if I mess up,” I nodded, spaghetti top clinging, denim shorts snug.

He dived and sliced the water. “Jump!” he called.

I leaped, top’s straps snapping, fabric tearing as I hit the water. I sank, panicked.

I sputtered awake on the shore, coughing.

“You alright, dear? I was shit-scared. You passed out for twenty minutes!” he was holding me tight, his chest a furnace against my shivering chest.

My top was gone, breasts bare, flattened against his chest. Sand gritty all over my body. I covered myself. “My top?”

“Ripped when I pulled you out,” he said, kneeling close. “Shredded in the deep water. Sorry.”

I laughed, "So you are enjoying my boobs for twenty minutes... What’s to hide?" I dropped my guard against my breasts.  The sagless, perfect domes with large brown areolas and sharp nipples.

“Seen tits before, yeah?” I teased, locking eyes.

“Indian boobs! My first time,” he grinned.

“Cheeky,” I pinched him, butterflies in my belly. He pulled me up, my breasts swayed, and my shorts chafed wetly.

We trudged to the villa’s open shower, and he nodded at my chest. “Sand’s a mess. Rinse off?”

I stepped under the spray, denim shorts still on, water streaming over my bare chest. My hands worked the sand off my boobs, fingers circling my nipples. The sand cover slowly washed away to reveal my flawless skin. Trevor watched as sand trailed down, catching in the waistband of my shorts.

“Sand all over; check my back?” I asked, sweeping my wet hair forward to cover my boobs. The strands clung, nipples playing hide-and-seek, sexy as hell. I turned, offering my back to him.

He stepped in with shower gel in hand, lathering it up. “Got you,” he said, his foamy hands gliding over my back, slow and deliberate. His touch sent shivers, and his hands slipped to my belly, pulling me into a hug from behind. His fingers, slick with foam, slid up, cupping my boobs, thumbs grazing my nipples, he cupped them throughly.

“All the sand’s in my shorts,” I murmured, pulse racing, I wanted him down there.

His hands moved, unbuttoning my denim. The shorts slid down my thighs, water washing the sand away, leaving me stark nude under the open shower, sea view sprawling before us. Trevor’s hands drifted lower, washing my pussy mound, clearing sand, fingers exploring my folds, slow and teasing. I jolted and spun to crash my lips against his.

We hugged tight, water cascading, and I shoved his trunks down, revealing his cock—may be 7 inches, hard, perfect girth.

“Aah,” I breathed, gripping him lightly. He lifted me, my legs wrapping around him, and carried me into the villa, water dripping.

He set me against the villa’s wall. “What are you, Maya?” he murmured, lips brushing my ear, shivers racing through me. His fingers felt my nipples, hardening them to aching points. “Your areolas are sexy?” he whispered, pinching softly, making me gasp.

“I have something sexier down there as well,” I panted, as his lips trailed my neck, warm, deliberate, teeth grazing my collarbone. “Oh, Trevor,” I moaned, as he knelt, kissing my stomach, tongue dipping into my navel.

“More, please,” I begged, pushing him further down. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

He lifted my right leg over his shoulder, pussy exposed, glistening, his breath hot against my folds. His lips brushing my inner thigh, teasingly close, tremors shooting through me. His tongue traced my slit, slow, savoring. “Sweet as sin,” he murmured, tasting my arousal, my hips tilting, craving deeper.

“Your clit Maya!” He looked at my eyes.

“I will fuck you with it!” I pushed my large clit into his mouth.

He sucked, licked and played with it. Each lick a jolt, my moans louder, mingling with the sea’s roar. His fingers parted my folds, tongue diving deeper, circling my clit with precision.

“Trevor, yes, don’t stop,” I moaned, nails digging, body arching, pleasure coiling tight.

“Let’s make love, Maya,” He stood, his thick cock, curving, glistening with precum.

“I thought it was smaller,” I pulled his leg.

“Grower, not a shower,” he grinned, eyes dark. “Want it, Maya?”

“Fill me,” I said, biting my lip, all my desires reignited. He lifted my leg, pinning it against the wall, cock nudging my entrance, slick with my juices.

“Ready, love?” Our eyes locked and his head first sliding in slow, stretching me deliciously, filling every inch, my walls gripping his cock tight.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, hand kneading my breast, fingers pinching my nipple.

“Loving it, Trevor. Make me moan,” my nails raked his back.

He moved his cock in and out steadily. I lost in his rhythm, thrusts deep, deliberate, though it did not hit my dead end. I gripped his cock inside me. I knew how to make him moan as well.

He lifted me, legs wrapping around his waist, cock driving deeper, hitting my sweet spot. “You are light as a feather,” he groaned and moved me like a sex toy. My breasts crushed against his chest, nipples grazing his skin. I French kissed him.

“I am done, yeah!” I whispered, and I unraveled, orgasm ripping through, pussy spasming. “Yes, yes!” I cried, my body shuddering on him.

“I need more Maya,” he groaned, our breaths ragged. He set me down and my legs wobbled for a moment. I knelt, his cock glistening with our juices.

“My turn,” I murmured, I licked his cock and took it in my mouth, tongue swirling around the cock head, savoring our mingled taste, salty and sweet.

I cupped his balls and licked under it with my tongue, slow and deliberate.

“Christ, Maya, you’re killing me,” he groaned, hands in my hair, guiding gently, his cock swelling. I sucked harder while tickling his balls.

“Like that, yeah?” I asked, drawing shudders.

He warned he was close and pulled back. “Cum on me,” I whispered, and he came on my breasts, hot, thick streams painting my skin. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he gasped, our eyes locked, waves humming in the distance.

“That was…one…” he breathed, voice hoarse.

“Mind-blowing, fucking” I grinned. We showered again, hands gentle, his cock soft, barely three inches.

“Little guy,” I teased, stroking it lightly, feeling it twitch.

Our first taste sparked a hunger that never quit. After that shower, we fucked multiple times daily—on the beach, in the villa, tangled in hammocks—every spot claimed, no count kept. Eat, fuck, sleep, repeat like a newly married Indian couple.

By day six, with one night left, I dreaded the organizers’ call—would they pull Trevor away?

I wanted our last night to sear into memory, so I proposed a campfire at the cliff. At midnight, we stripped, firelight dancing on our skin, my breasts swaying, pussy teased by the breeze.

“Doggy, Maya,” Trevor growled, hands tracing my hips, igniting heat. I dropped to my knees, facing Ethan’s island, heart racing at the thought of his binoculars on us—anyone could see us in the open flames. I damn care about anyone, I litreally broadcasting my love making to the islands around and the open sky.

“Fuck me, like an animal,” I whispered, ass up, his cock thick and pulsing as he entered me doggy-style, stretching me tight. His thrusts were deep, my clit throbbing, pleasure spiking as I moaned, “Harder, Trevor.” His hands gripped my waist and he kneaded my boobs. I cried wildly. We hit orgasm together. He pulled out his cock on the verge and sprayed his cum all over my butts. We slept in the open like sex loving wild rabbits.

At dawn, I woke first, grabbed the binoculars. I saw Ethan watching via a telescope; I wished he watched us fucking.

“Nosy!” I muttered, covering myself with a blanket. We returned to the villa.

The organizers called: no one could stay on one island for more than two weeks. I had to leave Trevor. He suggested I go to Ethan’s island while Ethan would join him here.

 “See you soon?” I asked, slipping into a sundress, his hug warm. The yacht arrived, and there was Ethan. I waved goodbye and moved to his island.

Week 3: Alone in Ethan’s Realm

On Ethan’s island, I embraced nudity, sun warming my breasts as I swam in turquoise waves, water teasing my folds. The villa’s telescope beckoned, and I spotted Trevor—or Ethan?—gazing from my old island, his chest sharp in the lens. So he had watched me in hi-res! All week, I teased myself under the stars, craving Trevor’s cock.

The organizers said we could move freely this week, my heart racing to reunite with Trevor.

Week 4: Forbidden Heat

I stepped off the drop boat onto my island’s sand, where one was sunbathing and another one sketched on a rock. That must be Ethan.

“Is that you, Trevor?” I asked the sunbather.

“You got it, love.” He hugged me. “I went mad without you, Maya. Dreamed of your touch.”

“I missed you,” I said, kissing him.

I glanced at Ethan. “Can we have some privacy, Ethan?”

“Of course, Maya,” he nodded. “I’ll head to the villa.”

As Ethan walked out of sight, I wasted no time, touching Trevor’s crotch, his cock already hard. I pulled his shorts down, revealing his erect length, pulsing.

“Hello, Little guy,” I teased, not undressing. I lifted my sundress, slid my panty aside, positioned myself, and sat on his cock, grinding slow, pussy stretching tight.“Oh I missed this,” I moaned, as he pulled my top off my shoulder, lips devouring my boobs, biting my nipples softly.

“God, Maya,” he groaned, thrusting deep. In five minutes, he warned, “I’m gonna cum,” but I ground harder. His load flooded me, hot and thick.

“Not in my fertile window,” I gasped, collapsing on the cool sand. His semen oozed out of my pussy.

We rinsed in the sea, Ethan sketching as we returned. Over lunch, we shared stories—Mumbai monsoons, UK rugby—Ethan’s smirk sharper than Trevor’s laugh.

“You two are impossible to tell apart,” I teased.

That night, Ethan slept in the hammock, leaving us private in the villa. Obviously you know why.

Day two, unsure which twin was Trevor, I stood still. One of them grinned to confirm, “It’s me, Maya. Want to swim?”

Ethan collected driftwood at a distance. Ignoring him, we waded into the sea, my wet sundress clinging, revealing my boobs and curves. I glanced at Ethan, focused on his task. Was he the one who ogled me in the first week? I shrugged, splashing Trevor.

After an hour, Ethan called, “Brunch is ready!”

My boobs spilled out while playing with Trevor. Ethan glanced at my nipples, now closer, not through a telescope. I casually adjusted, and I played it cool.

Day three, Ethan sketched, and Trevor was in the fish spa.

“Good morning, boys,” I said, brushing Trevor’s shoulder. “I got you right! What’s Ethan drawing always?”

“He loves drawing,” Trevor grinned, fetching Ethan’s paint book. “I’ll grab some wine for us.”

Ethan glanced up. “Morning, Maya.”

I flipped through vibrant sketches—waves, cliffs, birds. A painting stopped me: a nude woman on a cliff, binoculars hiding her face, unmistakably me. My heart skipped—Ethan’s telescope gaze. “Nice work,” I said casually to Ethan, flipping the page as Trevor returned.

We sipped wine, discussed art—Ethan’s love for art, my passion for Mumbai’s street murals. “You should pose for a portrait, Maya,” Ethan suggested.

“I’d love that,” I said. His pencil captured my sundress-clad curves, the portrait glowing. “It’s beautiful, Ethan.”

“I draw what I see,” he said.

Trevor leaned in. “How about a topless one, Maya? For my private collection.”

“I feel shy,” I faked, though it excited me..

“It’s just art,” Trevor coaxed.

Ethan stayed professional. “I’ve seen many models topless, Maya. There’s one in the sketchbook.” Trevor missed the hint, but not me—my cliff drawing.

“Alright,” I nodded, peeling off my top, revealing my soft boobies to the brothers.

“Sit on your knees,” Ethan suggested. I posed, his pencil precise. The portrait was sexy.

“Awesome,” I whispered, but wanted to confront Ethan about the telescope, waiting for the right moment.

Day four, I woke early, and Trevor was snoring after wild sessions. Ethan’s hammock was empty, ground wet from rain. Concerned, I found him sketching a mini waterfall under the cliff.

“Ethan,” my spaghetti top clinging, revealing my curves. “We spied on each other’s islands, didn’t we? Why send Trevor?”

He looked up. “I saw you first, Maya, through the telescope. Wanted you, but my brother had a brutal breakup. I stepped back—thought you’d help him forget his past.”

“Right—I did,”

I diverted, “Can you draw something special for me? A memento of this adventure.”

Ethan’s surprised. “A Sex Goddess Bathing in Her Own Desire? It’s daring. Requiring nude poses.”

“My nudity’s no secret to you,” I smiled. “But, keep it from Trevor.”

“Promise,” he said.

He explained: “Two poses: nude under the waterfall, close-up of your vagina as rocky folds, your cumming as the waterfall, merged into one piece.”

I stripped my spaghetti top and skirt, stood nude under the waterfall, water cascading over my breasts, pooling at my pussy, dripping on my thighs. Ethan sketched, professional.

On a rock, he directed, “Legs spread.” I hesitated, but he soothed, “It’s art, Maya—you’re divine.” I complied.

He parted my labia, revealed my smooth, pink, fluffy pussy, large clit glistening. His gentle touches ignited arousal as he sketched. I dripped, wetness trailing.

The artwork was a masterpiece—my form radiant, pussy’s folds as smooth rocky cliffs, a shimmering cascade. “Breathtaking,” I hugging him nude. “Forget rugby—this is your calling.”

We returned, Trevor asleep. That evening, while fucking Trevor, I couldn’t stop thinking Ethan and his touches in my pussy. He was in complete control. I needed Ethan to express his desire.

Day five, we woke early. Over coffee, I told Trevor about Ethan’s telescope, his sacrifice for Trevor’s healing. “He’s going through something sad. Our fling’s open, Trevor—not a lifelong commitment, just passion. And I am open to… you know… help him out.”

Trevor was moved. “Ethan’s a saint. I’m in, Maya.”

“So, we’re keeping this casual, no strings attached?” I sought clarity.

“Absolutely, love. No ties.” He kissed.

I suggested, “Let’s ask Ethan for intimate art—erotic poses. We’ll seduce him out of control.”

“That’s brilliant.”

We walked to Ethan. “Can you paint us,” I said showing Indian sculptures of couples fucking. “Erotic poses?”

Ethan hesitated. “That’s intense, Maya.”

Trevor clapped his shoulder. “Maya’s fine with it. It’s for my collection. What’s holding you back?”

 “Alright, let’s do it.”

We stripped nude. Trevor wanted a 69 pose. He laid beneath, his cock near my lips, my pussy over his mouth, boobs dangling, swaying, inches from Ethan’s gaze. Ethan’s pencil trembled, breaths ragged, eyes on my breasts, open pussy licked by his brother. I  must be seducing him fiercely. But he stayed professional.

“Perfect,” Ethan praised the completed work.

Then, Trevor suggested a standing fuck. “My cock inside her, one leg up, hands on my boobs.”

I stood, Trevor’s cock slid into my pussy, his hands cupping my breasts.

 Ethan hesitated, his shorts tenting. “I’m not sure,” he stammered.

“Do it,” Trevor insisted.

We posed, but I loosened my pussy’s grip, Trevor’s cock slipping out. Ethan paused. “Put it back, please.”

Trevor smirked. “It’ll ruin the pose. You do it, we stay still, Ethan.”

I froze, but Ethan stepped forward, held Trevor’s cock, spread my pussy, slid it back in. His touch sparked a new feel.

“How’s he so stubborn?” I hissed to Trevor and signaled him to fuck me. He started thrusting cock deep, my moans rising. Ethan tried to leave, frozen, eyes locked.

I complained, “This position’s awkward,” and we tried to change position, and I fumbled, fell onto Ethan, pushed him down in between my hands landed in doggy pose. Trevor entered from behind. My boobs jiggled near Ethan’s face.

At last Ethan gave up resistance and kissed my breasts, licked furiously, tongue flicking nipples. “Yes, Ethan,” I moaned. Ethan’s hands kneaded my boobs as Trevor came inside, withdrew.

Still burning, I straddled Ethan’s crotch, his shorts a thin shield against the heat pulsing below.

“You’ve been aching for this, haven’t you, Ethan?” I taunted, tearing his shorts off, revealing a cock that outshone Trevor’s, a thicker one. I guided it into my cum-slick pussy, a molten tide embracing its conqueror, and rode him slow, his hands molding my breasts with fierce precision.

“Fuck me like you’re writing a masterpiece, artist boy,” I growled, rolling my hips.

I arched forward to offer my chest to his eager mouth, his tongue circling my nipples with urgent swirls. “Suck harder, Ethan—leave your mark on me!” I demanded, my voice a wild howl. He obeyed, lips clamping, teeth grazing, each pull a spark flaring to my core.

I shifted, spun to reverse cowgirl, his cock plunging deeper, a current sweeping through a hidden river.

I moaned, glancing at Trevor.

“Join us,” I ordered. He sprang up, erection renewed. “Let’s make this unforgettable,” I said, sliding off Ethan to missionary, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Fuck you sex goddess,” I commanded Ethan. Trevor knelt before me, offering his cock to me.

“Suck it, like the last day of your life.” I deep-throated him and gagged.

“Bloody hell, Maya, you’re unreal,” Ethan groaned, his stamina a long-burning fuse, thrusts steady, unyielding.

“You twins are my undoing,” I gasped, shifting to doggy style, Trevor beneath, cock surging upward into my pussy, Ethan standing, his length sliding into my mouth, a dual rhythm of surrender.

“Take me, Maya,” Ethan rasped, hips rocking, my lips a soft cage around him. Trevor’s hands gripped my hips, lifting me, each thrust a wave crashing through my veins. I moaned around Trevor’s cock, vibrations drawing his shudder.

“Keep going, you wild bastards!” I cried, sweat and sand melding, a raw canvas. Ethan’s endurance held, a fire unquenched, while Ethan’s cock twitched, nearing release.

We switched to a standing position: I stood, one leg hooked over Ethan’s shoulder, his cock piercing my pussy, Trevor behind, rubbing his length between my thighs, his hands kneading my bums, their hands roaming, a fevered exploration.

Trevor came inside my pussy, and Ethan wasted no time and slid his cock inside the cum dripping pussy from behind.

I screamed, a storm breaking free, my climax a lightning strike, searing every nerve. Trevor spilled his slime inside me, hot streams coating my thighs, a molten gift.

“You twin demons!” I roared, collapsing on the beach, a castaway sex goddess. Trevor and Ethan beside me, sand clinging to our sweat-soaked skin, the sea humming our conquest. My pussy oozed cum endlessly.

Then the final days of the retreat blazed. I fucked Ethan more, alone, while Trevor watching. Trevor tasted me twice, and we shared one last, long threesome inside the villa, without any rush.

My pills kept consequences at bay. And they were safe from any STDs. The retreat came to an end. I packed and we waited for our yachts.

“I’ll never forget this,” I told Trevor and Ethan, hugging them one last time, for then.

I saved the twins’ numbers, a spark I might or might not ignite later, my desires filled to the brim.

My yacht was leaving the island. I waved bye to them. I thought about the HR Uncle, who had suggested this retreat!

You sly fox, I thought, my nerves buzzing, wondering what he’d found on his own retreat. But my wild tale—nudity, torrid sex, threesomes, my untamed fire… everything would stay locked away from him.

I’d spin a different story for the HR Uncle, one of spiritual healing, a chaste fable he’d likely see through but never question.

But to my friend Leena in India, she’d get the filthy saga in detail. The yacht sliced through glittering waves, carrying me back to the UK.

Adios!