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Deedee's Holiday - 02
🕑 Added 2025-08-27 13:00:16 +0000 UTC
Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes. It is not suitable for minors or the easily offended.
https://linktr.ee/spartacuswrites
Contains: Weight Gain
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Deedee’s Holiday
II
I ran into Delia on my way to breakfast. She’d already eaten, but we made plans to meet for lunch at the cafe a block down from our hotel. With my morning free, I took my book and sat by the pool after breakfast. I re-read the same paragraph three times before closing the book. My mind kept drifting to thoughts of her. Now that I’d met her—and we were staying at the same hotel for the next two weeks—what was my goal? What was my plan? Every other relationship I’d had (which was only three) had been a long game. Slowly building our way from casual dates to love and physical stuff over weeks and months. I’d had a few random hook-ups, but the last one of those had been almost ten years ago. I didn’t really have time to slow-play whatever might happen with Deedee, though. I figured the best case scenario would be getting to hang out and get to know her for a few days, and maybe try to meet up when we got back to our respective homes. Toronto isn’t that far away, after all.
It’s only, like, an eight-hour drive.
I shook my head to clear it. I was getting way ahead of myself. Delia and I had barely just met. As best I could tell, she was single, but she probably wasn’t even interested in me that way. I checked the time on my phone; maybe it was almost time to meet her for lunch. The screen annoyingly said, “9:42.” I grabbed my book and got up. A nice walk in the salty air might quiet the voices for a while.
Luckily, there was enough going on in the city to keep me mostly distracted that morning. People from all over sat outside cafes and restaurants, talking and laughing, and smiling. After circling a few blocks, I walked out onto the beach behind the hotel. There were couples everywhere, which annoyed me, and more than a few families with children screeching with mirth. But the crisp Mediterranean air was a blessed relief from the heat, and I got to meet several dogs.
All in all, it was a decent way to spend the day. I was almost disappointed when I checked my phone and saw it was time to head back to the hotel for lunch. Who am I kidding? I had to force myself to walk normally instead of sprinting to meet up with Delia.
Our lunch portions, at least, were a little more sensible. Delia got a salad, and I had fish. I found out why she’d eaten light after we were done eating.
“I want to shoot some content from that hill to the South. Do you wanna join me?”
She could have asked me to join her on a hike through the Mojave, and I would have said yes.
“That sounds like fun; it’ll be nice to stretch my legs,” I said, ignoring the ache in my feet from that morning’s stroll. “When do you want to go?”
“I just have to grab some stuff from my room. Let’s meet in the lobby in like… twenty minutes?”
“Great!”
***
The peak wasn’t very high, but the walk to get there was over a mile. Two and a half kilometers, according to the signs. I was sure I had blisters on my feet, and I silently kicked myself for agreeing to this and abusing my body just to spend more time with Deedee. What was I, some kind of lovestruck teenage boy? Some kind of pathetic simp? But then, Delia would catch my eye, give me one of those smiles, and I’d forget all about my aching feet.
If she was ahead of me, I watched her cute little ass wiggle like she was a model on a catwalk. If she fell behind, I got a nice view down her frilly yellow blouse. If we kept the same pace, all I had to do was glance to the side to see those juicy melons wobbling with every step she took.
Before I met her, I was almost certain Deedee shook her tits deliberately in her videos—they jiggled way more than they should from normal movements like climbing out of a pool or walking toward the camera. Now that I saw her in person, it was confirmed. They definitely moved—a lot—but nothing like the way she showed off online.
We finally reached the top, and I had to admit, the view was pretty nice. Deedee managed to find a spot with no other people around and took off her small backpack. She produced a pair of cute little flats to replace her chunky hiking shoes. Then, she held her phone out to me. “Would you take some pics of me?”
I was stunned. I didn’t want that responsibility. What if I fucked it up? “What, me? I’m not a photographer or anything.”
Deedee smiled so wide I thought she might start laughing. “I normally have to set the phone up on a rock or haul my tripod all the way up here. I’m sure you can do a better job than that.”
Unable to think up any reasonable excuse, I took her phone. She walked about ten feet away and struck a pose. “Just take a bunch; I’ll pick a favorite or two to queue up on my accounts.”
I took a few with Deedee centered in the frame, then remembered something I’d heard once about the “Rule of Thirds,” and angled her phone to the side to get the city below into the shots. It was surreal to see the process behind all those photos I’d seen of her. In front of the camera, she was like a different person. She was shy and demure, twisting her body to show off her shape in the best ways possible. After a few dozen poses, she walked back to me and took her phone, swiping through the photos.
“What are you talking about? These are great! The only one I can’t use is this one where I blinked.”
Her praise made my heart race, an ache forming in my chest at the unexpected intimacy. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
“Let’s do a couple videos, then I want to change.”
“Change? Up here‽”
Deedee’s only response was a cute little wink. If I hadn’t been so caught up in the idea of her stripping, I might have read more into that wink. She had me play a few trending song clips that she lip-synced to while walking toward me. When she added that extra little bounce to her step that made her tits jiggle while she walked, I nearly dropped her phone.
“Alright, move around this way so the water’s in the background. It’ll look like a different spot.”
While I walked to where she’d pointed, she undid her blouse and slipped off her skirt. She was wearing a bikini underneath, pale blue with side ties on the bottoms and a row of laces crisscrossed over her cleavage line. I thought my eyes were going to fall out of my head.
“H-how is it?” Delia asked softly.
Incredible. Spectacular. There was so much flawless tanned skin on display that I was literally salivating. “You look great,” I said with a smile.
We repeated the process with the new outfit and different scenery. I wondered how many of her posts were made at the same time and place, even though she uploaded them days or weeks apart. It was an idle thought, however, because I was mostly just focused on her. She looked out over the sea, then side-eyed the camera. She looked at the ground and then up at the lens. She made her tits wobble, then smirked at her phone. I watched it all on the small screen, and whenever I looked up, her eyes were on mine. It was like each of those coy, smug little looks was just for me. Photography, it turned out, might be my true calling. A very specific kind of photography, anyway.
Part of me hoped she would shed even more clothes for a third set of photos, but I was pretty sure there was nothing under that bikini but her. And she didn’t have an OnlyFans or other “private” accounts, as far as I knew. So, when she was satisfied with the pics, Deedee put her skirt and blouse back on, changed her shoes, and we began the long trek back to our hotel. By the time we were a block away from the entrance, she asked, “Are you alright?”
I must not have been hiding my wincing as well as I thought. “Yeah, why?”
“Sorry, you just… look like you’re in pain.”
Shit. “It’s just my feet. I went for kind of a long walk this morning.”
Delia’s brows crinkled together in genuine concern. “Why didn’t you say something? You didn’t have to come with me.”
“That’s alright, I wanted to.” For a moment, I considered telling her the honest truth, but I deflected instead. “Honestly, I’ve been bored out of my mind. This was supposed to be a trip with my girlfriend.”
“Oh.”
Was that disappointment in her tone? Surely not; I must have imagined it. “My ex-girlfriend, I guess I should say.”
“Oh…”
I needed to stop reading into her inflection. No way was a sexy girl like Deedee interested in a frumpy old lesbian like me. She said, “Do you wanna get some food?”
I checked my phone. “It’s kinda early.”
“I guess you’re right. We could get drinks by the pool, then?” When I didn’t answer immediately, she said, “Or would you rather go up and lie down? You should get off your feet either way. We could meet up later… if you’re up for it.”
I was absurdly touched by her kindness. Even if nothing more happened between us, I’d at least go home having made a new friend. I wasn’t ready to give up just yet, though. “Let’s go sit by the pool.”
Delia beamed. “Awesome! I need a Sangria immediately. Maybe we’ll see if one of the pool boys will bring us some fried prawns. I think one of them has a crush on me.”
“I think they flirt with every guest. They get better tips that way.” The pragmatic retort was out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“Aww, come on, Nikki,” Delia said in a tone so melodramatically wounded I could tell she was faking it. “If you can’t be a little delulu on vacation, then when?”
“Alright, alright. I’m sure, in your case, their attention is genuine. I bet you get undercharged everywhere you go.”
“I don’t know about everywhere,” Delia teased, “But with the two of us together, I bet Hector will bring us all the drinks and snacks we want.”
I tried not to overthink her expression, “The two of us together.”
