Pixie and the Whale

It took around two seconds for me to decide that we had already done the foreplay. Another two seconds to get up, turn around, kneel between her legs, push her thighs down, opening them wider, and sink my cock into the tight opening between her labia.

Her arms were stretched out wide. My arms were supporting me, one hand on either side of her, just above her shoulders. She was still grinning mischievously. She did something with the muscles of her vagina, squeezing tight around my cock. An invitation, neither Spanish nor English, but internationally understood.

Fucking pixie was sheer heaven. I did think about the whale, once, but then put him right out of my mind. Pixie was too good a thing to let thoughts of whale spoil my enjoyment. She might have been petite, but she loved to fuck, and the size of my cock did not matter for a moment. After the first few gentle exploratory minutes, she was taking all of my seven inches with every thrust, gentle or hard, she loved them both.

She was not quiet either. She had a high pitched squeal, that could be short or long, interrupted by Spanish words that she threw at me, none of which I understood, but I did understand the squirming movements of her body, the way she used her arms to pull her back and shoulders off the sand and hang from my neck, and the way she reached for my nipples, twisting and squeezing them to make me fuck her harder. Then too, from time to time, she just threw back her head and screamed.

Pixie got so loud that I got concerned. We were out of sight, but still only a hundred yards or so from the main cove, and whether her screams could be heard around the rocks I did not know.

I paused.

She looked at me, questioning.

I shifted to the left, lifted her left leg, and tucked it under the right side of my body. Her foot reached just past my shoulder. I shifted right, lifted her other leg under, her right heel to my left shoulder. I lowered my pelvis, and every millimetre of my cock's length was buried in her upward facing pussy.

I started fucking her again.

She started the high pitched squeals.

I can fuck supporting myself with one hand, although it has to be centred to keep my balance. Pixie was small enough I could put my right hand on the sand just above her head. I put my left hand on her mouth, covering it, muting her, and fucked her more, watching as she screamed with her eyes.

Why the hell was this gorgeous Spanish pixie with the whale?

Even gagged by my hand, she did that thing with my nipples again, both together.

I released her mouth, took one of her cherry nipples between my thumb and finger, squeezed and rolled, as I continued fucking her. Squeezed some more. Rolled some more, harder. What's good for the gander is good for the goose.

Her mouth gaped open, perfect Spanish teeth. Not a sound, holding her breath, until she screamed again.

I jumped my hand from her breast to cover her open mouth. The side of my hand went between her teeth, inadvertently, but she bit on it. Her whole body shuddered. Pixie was coming. So was I. I pulled my hand away as the first spit of semen rushed its way through my cock and into her. Then I move my hand over her mouth properly, muting her again.

Four days of frustration had let my semen build, and it felt exquisite as I unloaded into pixie's pussy, the bundle of nerves at the base of my cock head singing each time another gobbet of semen shot past, and the delicate membrane of the cock head itself, fizzing with sensation. I screwed my cock into her, as deep as it would go. Her hands were on my buttocks, trying to get it deeper. I was still firing into her, draining myself.

Pixie herself did not stop shuddering, not until I was empty, and only then could I risk taking my hand from her mouth, and dropping onto my elbows, her legs still under me, her body folded, her pussy flooded, my cock sated, but still pulsating with the exquisite sensations of a fuck completed.

After long minutes of regaining breath, we disengaged.

I pushed back with my arms, a single press up that slid my cock back out of her. I rolled to one side, lying on my back, as she brought her legs back down, my come trickling from her.

Pixie turned and lay with her head on my arm, breathing softly, cherry nipples standing proud. The trickle ran down around her thigh, onto the sand.

We lay like that for several more minutes. Then, saying nothing, she got up, walked to where my shorts were still lying on the sand, picked them up, grinned, and dropped them onto my groin.

In her high pitched pixie voice she said something in Spanish that, again, I did not understand, none of it, apart from the final word.

"Manana."

Then she walked into the sea, buttocks undulating, and thigh deep, she glanced back with her mischievous smile just before throwing herself into the water and swimming off.

Why some women end up with the guys they do, I will never understand.

Who cares? Other men's wives are the cherry on the cake.

And of course there was tomorrow.

Manana, and manana, and manana.