Conversation stopped as nature surrounded them. Vegetation shaded the dirt path. Palm trees towered overhead. Birds sang with the creeks tumbling along their rock-strewn cradles.

Tasha wondered if the men were remembering past trips, times when they'd been spry enough to run up the trail. Of how they slipped naked into the oasis pool, uncaring of who might see. Of that full moon night they became one for the first time. Memories somersaulted through her, taking her breath, and reminding her of how wonderful it had been.

Before she realized it they were at the head of the trail, standing in the spray of the waterfall. She lifted her face to catch more of the mist, watching hummingbirds dart up to the falls for a drink. The scene energized her spirit, making her want to seize the moment. Decorum made her a tad more cautious. She and Mel had a business to run and a reputation to uphold. But tonight in the privacy of four walls...

"Boy! I don't remember the water being this cold." Quentin sat on a large slab of rock, bare feet dangling in the water. His shoes and socks were behind him.

Mel laughed and joined him, peeling off footwear as he did so. "I know. It's a wonder our balls didn't crawl up our asses."

"Guess we were too hot and horny to know the difference."

A look passed between them, sending shivers through Tasha's body. There was no denying the want there. It was crazy on so many levels. They hadn't seen or heard from Quentin in five years. Surely catching up was a better idea than rushing into sex the instant they laid eyes on each other. But nothing had ever made real sense in their relationship--nothing, that is, but being together. She knew how much Mel had hungered for Quentin all these years; she had, too, despite their more than satisfying relationship. They'd quickly realized it wasn't about having a third party in their beds--it was about having him there. No one but Quentin would do.

The men's gazes were locked, hands cupped over each other's upper thigh. Erections swelled--Quentin's somewhat confined by the jockeys she knew he wore; Mel's down his leg, nearly peeking from the hem of his shorts leg. All Quentin would have to do was run his finger under the hem to feel the head. Or let his tongue hunt for him.

Her pussy clenched at the thought, oozing thick juices into her panties. Nipples hardened within her bra, begging to be touched--by the men's hands or hers, they didn't care. Mel and Quentin brushed their fingers upward, and opened their thighs for the other's touch. A silent gasp parted their lips when they reached testicles.

Tasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and edged closer to the waterfall, where she'd have a good view of the men and the trail behind them. Though she longed to join them, watching them heated her in ways she'd craved to experience again. Besides, they needed this moment to reconnect, and someone needed to be the lookout--if she could focus on doing so and not mirroring their actions.

Even as she cautioned herself to be diligent, Tasha unzipped her shorts and burrowed her fingers into her damp slit. She remembered how it felt to have Mel's tongue on her clit while Quentin fucked her ass. How he'd bring her to orgasm, then feather his tongue down to Quentin's balls and make him come, too. Her breath caught at the memory. She squeezed her breast through shirt and bra, kneading the flesh until she could feel her nipple hard in the center of her palm.