Where it happened: Jughandle Headlands
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 5
Category: Straight
It all began on a crisp Tuesday afternoon in March. A friend
was visiting my house, ostensibly to study, and she and I
took a trip down to the beach, to improve our cognitive
process.
We were resting from our arduous studies, at the top of a
lovely little rise covered in cypress, when she picked a blade
of grass in her teeth and gave me a rather coquettish look.
I leaned over, and attemted to remove it with my teeth,
clipping it short in the process. It took but a brief while
until the grass was so short that we had to reach within the mouth
of the other player to remove it.
When I tried to snatch the last tiny bit, my ‘study’ partner
instead swallowed it. Full scale war had to be waged at this
point. I reached for her nose, and held it shut, until she opened
her mouth for air. Then I delved inside with my tongue, praying
that her swallowing was only a facade.
I was surprised to find that I was not the only one questing in
this venture, as my tongue was quickly seized and held hostage. I
yelped for mercy, but the fiend would not relinquish my poor tongue.
So I tried reverse psychology, and jammed my tongue back down her
throat.
She was not at all stunned at my turn in play, and quickly turned this
‘innocent’ war into something more. She reached above her head for a
low-hanging cypress branch. She twisted it until it came undone,
and proceeded to slash me rather sharply acroos the back with it.
This did it. I reached for a fern, and stuffed it firmly down her
bra, giving myself a lovely feel of the soft, white flesh that lay
there. She gave an exlamation of mock surprise, and found a handy
squishy object (banana slug), and gently placed it into my
underwear. I cannot say I was pleased with this turn of events,
as I imagined a pool of slime collecting where one should not be,
so I raised my books and wemt after her.
Shrieking in terror, she ran down the path to the beach, where many innocent
tourists proceeded to look slightly shocked at the behavior which
followed. As she fled, she slowly removed her garments, and,
not to be outdone, I followed suit. By the time we reached the extremely
cold Pacific, we were utterly nude, and our outer (and under)
garments littered the beach. She hit the waves, and I lodged
my books on a convient rock. I followed her inot the waves, with
great concern for my nether parts, which were growing extremly
chilled. We met in mid-surf, and she caught me and gave a rousing kiss.
I felt the definent stir of desire somewhere down there in my poor
chilled labias.
I returned the kiss, as a good Lady should, and promptly, a
wave carried us both under. We came up for breath, sputtering with
laughter, and she reached a hand under and around, politeley
informing me that my nether parts were far from numb to feeling.
She certainly knew what she was going for. As the afternoon wore
on, our various fluids mingled with the sea which has already seen
the blood of a thousand sailors, the semen of a thousand
conquerors, the sorrow of a thousand woefull souls. The funeral
taking place somewhere down the Coast had the ashes of the dead
mingled with our pleasure.
Needless to say, when we emerged, the tourists had gone away, and
some of our clothing had dissappeared. We made do with what we had,
and returned form our Latin late, flushed, and very ahppy.
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