Benidorm Nights
"A lads' holiday takes an unexpected turn when the fit girl from the next balcony climbs over"
Benidorm. Four lads. All-inclusive wristbands. The kind of chaos that either creates memories or destroys friendships.
By day three, I'd lost my mates somewhere between the karaoke bar and the foam party. Standing on my hotel balcony at 2 AM, watching the Strip below, wondering if I'd ever see them again.
That's when she appeared on the balcony next door.
"Alright?"
She was thick in that perfect holiday way—curves made for bikinis, sun-kissed skin, blonde hair messy from a night out. Wearing just a oversized t-shirt that probably wasn't hers.
"Alright," I said. "Lost your mates too?"
"Pulled some Spanish bloke and left me." She leaned on the railing. "Fucking typical. I'm Chantelle."
"Daz."
"Daz. Nice." She looked me over. "You're fit. For someone who looks as rough as I feel."
"Cheers. Same."
"Charmer." She nodded at the gap between our balconies. "Fancy company? My room's depressing when you're alone."
"How do you plan to get over?"
She grinned, climbed onto the railing, and stepped across the gap like it was nothing.
"Easy."
"That's insane."
"It's Benidorm. Everything's insane."
We sat on my balcony, sharing a bottle of duty-free vodka, watching the chaos below.
"Third time in Benidorm," Chantelle said. "Still don't know why we come."
"Sun. Cheap booze. Bad decisions."
"The holy trinity." She shifted closer. "Speaking of bad decisions..."
"Yeah?"
"You're fit. I'm horny. We're in Benidorm." She looked at me. "Seems obvious what happens next."
"Is that how it works?"
"It's how I'm making it work." She kissed me—vodka-warm, confident, no hesitation.
"Inside?" I managed.
"Nah." She was already pulling off her shirt. "Here. Want the view."
The Benidorm skyline made an interesting backdrop.
She straddled me on the cheap plastic chair, kissing me while the Strip pulsed below. Her tits were incredible—full and soft, tan lines showing where her bikini had been.
"Been watching you," she admitted. "From my balcony. Thought about coming over the first night."
"Why didn't you?"
"Wasn't drunk enough." She was working at my shorts. "Now I am."
She sank down onto me and we both moaned. The plastic chair creaked dangerously.
"Move," she demanded. "Hard."
I grabbed her hips, thrust up. She bounced on my lap, completely shameless, moans echoing off the building.
"Yes—fuck—right there—"
Down below, someone wolf-whistled. She looked over the balcony, waved, kept riding me.
"Audience," she said, grinning.
"You don't care?"
"This is Benidorm. Everyone's seen worse." She ground down harder. "Now make me cum."
I found her clit, rubbed while she rode. She came with a scream that probably reached the hotel pool.
"Don't stop—keep going—"
She came twice more before I finished. The chair was definitely broken now.
We lay on the balcony floor, watching the sky lighten.
"Well," Chantelle said. "Best holiday yet."
"And it's only day three."
"True." She kissed me. "My room's got a better shower. And a bed."
"Moving fast."
"It's Benidorm." She grinned. "We've got four more days. Might as well make the most."
She climbed back over to her balcony, then back to mine with her stuff.
I never did find my mates. Didn't really care.
Best Benidorm trip of my life.