Summer of '12 Pt. 02

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She'd pre-booked the next day as a day of work and errands. She returned to find lilies, bison dog treats and a note: "Beach beginning with M, tomorrow morning? I'll be there."

She awoke early, stretching in feline length. Her hands toyed with her breasts, her thighs, with her cunt lips, as she thought of the day.

She was at the beach at 10am, strolling through the dunes to see his head pop up like that of a lemur from the depression they'd lain in a week or so earlier.

A scattering of nudists was already about the dunes, nestled in the folds and curves of the sand: one middle aged couple some dozens of yards off, a few single men (mainly older) -- one with a big cock - and a college girl with a swell of dark hair, pendulous breasts and a shaved vagina. No one was paying them any attention to them, so she walked up and cocked an inquisitive hip at him.

He nodded at the sand at her feet. "I see. So showtime for you, and anyone who comes by."

His grin and his enthusiasm was boundless.

She spread her towel. Her wardrobe that day was 'dress to undress' (which also meant ease of getting dressed), so she simply untied her shirt dress and slipped it off. He'd clearly been hoping for more of a show, so she stood and let the soft wind and warm sun caress her skin. She closed her eyes and listened to the surf, feeling his gaze and his admiration.

She opened them to lock eyes with a runner pounding on the surf: athletic, close to her age, long-legged. He was staring without any pretense of hiding his interest. She gazed at him, letting him have his fill. He passed and she sat down, legs raised to her chest: what passes for modesty on a nude beach.

She reached into her bag and placed wide sunglasses and a broad brimmed straw hat on her head.

"Was that enough?" she asked lover boy nested beyond a small rise some eight feet away. He shook his head. "You're terrible" she noted, part amused, part excited, part terrified at what he would ask.

He gazed up the beach, towards a spot popular with tourists. Tourists occasionally wandered down the beach, generally surprised when they encountered naturists. This had happened last time they were here. Two couples were walking down the beach, speaking animatedly.

Nodding in that direction he said "Go show yourself to them. And take the hat off."

She raised her eyebrows to say "no"... to the hat.

About five minutes later, after some discussion of hats and no hats, the couples neared the nudist section and predictably resolved themselves into a mix of bermuda shirts and golf shirts and suburban spread at the midriffs. They were softly conventional. At least one man had noticed the nudists, for the dark-haired college girl was sitting up, her full breasts falling forward like ripe melons. Snickering, he nudged the other. Then the wives saw.

At that moment she rose and walked, with what she hoped was an indifferent air, towards the water. Her line approached them diagonally. Her lover popped his head up in his hole, his camera half camouflaged by a towel. She was conscious of aim capturing her ass through his lens. She walked slowly. Her breasts swayed. The morning sun slanted onto her, lighting and revealing everything, highlighting her waxed and tightly defined slit. She reached the water and turned to walk towards them, head turned slightly to the sea as though these tourists did not exist.

The wives were bringing the men to order, slapping down an incipient attempt to sneak a photo on a phone and trying to turn them back. She turned her back on them and then seemed to spy something on the beach. Legs parted, she bent down to grab a seemingly interesting stone, giving a sun-drenched Penthouse view to the scandalized couples before rising and sauntering back to her towel. The couples were in full retreat when she turned back to look.

Her lover was still nestled in his depression, a towel wrapped around something rather suspiciously set on the edge.

"Did you photograph me."

"No. I swear."

"You swear what. That you are a horrible liar?"

He was silent.

"Stand up" she said.

"I have a hard on."

" Stand up. I want to see it."

He did, holding a towel to try and cover it. She told him to drop it. Seven inches of stiff flesh tottered about like and unsteady tree.

She rose to dress. "The housekeeper leaves at 4."

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He displayed uncommon coolness, arriving at 530. She poured them gin and tonics: lots of ice and decorated with rosemary from the garden.

He described in slow detail, breathy and excited, how she'd walked and looked that morning. Everything he'd seen and observed he shared. His cock was visibly tenting. He showed her the photos, which she had to admit were extremely flattering, the blue sea setting off the creamy paleness of her skin. "You look so toned, so fit" he enthused. Even the photos of her returning to her towel were not at all that revealing of her identity because of the angle of hat and sunglasses. (Though she suspected he may have withheld one or two.)

The had another pair of drinks. "You are beautiful" he announced.

He undressed her on the porch in the rays of settling sun, sitting on a coffee table as he traced kisses over her naked belly and breasts.

He placed her on her hands and knees on the coffee table, the thick banister offering slight extra privacy beyond the obscuring hedge, She hung her head, face obscure by hair, the image of a woman giving in to desire. He stared intently at her ass as he undressed. His cock bobbed as he used his hands to manoeuver her legs wider apart, granting him a clearer view of her spread pussy and her pink bumhole.

She reached back to grip his cockhead and place it at her cunt. He slipped in and slowly, half an inch at a time, slid into her. He built momentum over the first minute or two, but then began to fuck her deeply, ending his thrusts at his pubic hair, his full length driven into her and she having no more length to give. He fucked her deliberately, his hands gripping her cheeks and spreading them open. Her ass winked open at him.

He bent over, placing some weight onto her back, and grabbed a breast in each hand. He made shorter thrusts, cupping her tits to feel the sway, relishing the sensation of her nipples on his palm.

He rose again and then pistoned her. The window offered an imperfect reflection of his penetration of her. She was now resting her head on her forearms. She only raised her head, looking up and back, when he extracted his slicked-up cock.

"Lie on your back" he demanded. She rose to stand, the sun's westering beams catching her and giving her pale skin a golden tone of warmth and vibrancy.

She sat on the edge of the coffee table and then lay back. She raised her knees and parted her legs wide to take him in, but he walked around and presented his cock to her face. He rested it on her lips and she opened them, turning her head as she did.

He fed his cock into her, pushing as deep as he could. She used a hand to try and push him away, but he resisted and she, relaxing and taking a breath, swallowed a good four or five inches of him. He pushed further and she gagged, angling away and popping him out for air. He tried again and she took him deeper, perhaps a quarter inch. When she made a low moan that depth and that sound sent him quivering.

He pulled out. As he did a long chain of saliva stretched with his retreating penis, tying it to her mouth.

He placed a knee next to her head and then angled his balls onto her lips. She began to gently suck on each. He moved around to increase the area covered by her slurping, ensuring that the area between his balls and his asscrack was well covered by her. As she tongued him here left hand stroked his cockshaft and the plum-head topping it.

He turned and reached down to his sailing shorts. Her hand caressed his ass as he bent. Soon he was pulling a tube of lubricant out of the pocket of the discarded shorts. There was a look of determination on his face. He slicked a finger and then walked to the foot of the coffee table and kneeled. He began to slurp at her pussy, sucking on her clit and flicking his tongue at it. His lubed finger began to probe her ass. She closed her eyes.

As his finger slipped past one knuckle he began to stiff-tongue her clit. He pushed deeper. With his other hand he palmed some more lubricant and made possible the entry of two fingers into her bum. He intensified his slurping at her pussy and, as she began to squirm, used the flat palm of his free hand to restrain her in place by pressing on her belly.

He elevated his head and then palmed more lubricant, coating his shaft until it glistened. The veins stood out more clearly now, throbbing. He spread her legs apart by the ankles. Releasing one, he reached behind to grab a sofa cushion and slipped in under her lower back. Her cunt and ass were now as open and pornographically displayed as it was possible to be. He flicked off the cap of the lubricant and aimed it at her rear hole. He dropped the tube and used a finger to circle it around and in with one, then two, then three slippy fingers.

He placed his cockhead at her bum, pausing a long fifteen seconds to admire the sight. He was firm and showed no hesitation as he applied pressure. She made a small mew, but he pushed intently and soon popped the widest part of the glans in her. He allowed ten seconds for her to adjust to the fleshy rod entering her, and then kept steadily pushing until he was half buried. Holding each ankle so her legs were in a wide, exposing 'V', he buzzsawed his cock half-in/quarter-in fifteen or twenty times. Her right hand slipped to her clit, two fingers manipulating herself side to side.

He began to push deeper, grunting slightly as he did. "So tight. So good." he said, panting out his words.

At three-quarter depth he began buzzsawing again: three inches in, three inches out. She panted out something about the friction and sensation, but the thought, as exciting and dirty as it was, went unfinished. And so he pushed deeper, so deep so that his trimmed pubic hair formed a nest in the spread crack of her ass. He was still holding her legs wide, though they were now somewhat pushed back towards her head. A look of wonder was on his face.

His strokes at full depth began slowly but soon he reached a speed that could really only be described as assfucking: deep, full strokes in and out, quickly and repetitively. He paused to squirt more lubricant onto his three-quarter revealed shaft and then ploughed in fully. The three central fingers of her right hand were hard at work masturbating herself, her open pussy pink and the lips flushed. She came before he did, the force of it wrenching her ankles from his grasp, though his cock penetrating her ass held her core in place: she was open and still to be plundered. His hands now held the back of her thighs and his body made slapping sounds against her fleshy ass as he bottomed out.

Another thirty seconds and he pulled put, rising to his feet. His first rope of cum sailed with force over the length of her body to hit her left cheek and neck and chin. His second blast coiled onto her right breast. His third, weaker now, puddled on her belly. Her feet settled on the coffee table, her cunt still open and part raised by the pillow.

He walked round to her, slick and still tumescent, cum dripping from the tip. He brought it near her face, but she shook her head and raised herself onto her elbows, using a leg to wriggle the cushion from under her bum. He sank back onto the sofa, staring at her.

"You watch too much porn."

"I want to make porn with you. You are the best and hottest." He replied, dreamily.

"Oh dear. I suppose everyone has to have dreams."

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