Lindsay was enjoying the freedom of being completely naked, playing in the surf near the waterfall. She glided in the shallows, rolling in the swirling foam before letting the water sweep her up onto an outcrop of black lava rock at the base of the waterfall. She danced through the spray, then planted her feet and tipped her head back, letting the torrent pound against her shoulders and spine all the way down to the topography of her bare butt. The sensation was so overwhelming, so elemental, she laughed out loud, then rolled herself back into the surf, coming up gasping and splayed open arms to the sky.
When she blinked the brine from her eyes, a man was standing thigh-deep in the surf watching her. He was naked, of course, mid to late fifties, with a soft, rounded belly, and a pleasant-looking cock nestled in a thick patch of salt-and-pepper curls that matched the hair on his chest and head. His face bore the weathered creases of someone who smiled often in the sun.
She waded toward him, each step sending wavelets rippling outward across the aqua-marine shallows. Water cascaded from her heavy breasts in rivulets that traced the curve of her ribs before running down her toned abdomen and converging into a single, meandering stream that disappeared between her legs, where golden sunlight caught the droplets clinging to the trimmed tuft of blonde pubic hair. She stood a few feet away from him, close enough that she could see the fine wrinkles around his eyes and smell the piña colada-scented sunscreen on his skin.
“Is the waterfall as cold as it looks?” he asked, nodding up towards the cascading spray, his gaze lingering only a moment before returning to her face.
“It’s absolutely freezing,” Lindsay replied with a small shiver as she ran her fingers through her wet hair, droplets cascading down her collarbone. She cupped her breasts in her palms and lifted them slightly. Her areolas had contracted to tight circles, her nipples standing proudly erect and flushed a deeper pink than the surrounding flesh. “I mean, look what it’s done to my nipples,” she giggled.
He laughed, the sound deep and unexpectedly boyish. “You could put someone’s eye out with those things,” he joked, quickly looking down at her breasts, appreciating her.
Lindsay liked his ease, and how, rather than ogle her, he seemed to treat her nudity as incidental, a given. She dropped her hands and let her breasts settle back against her chest, and felt him look at her frankly and without apology. Her eyes flicked down to his groin and noticed that his cock had stiffened a shade. Not hard, not soft, just heavier, fuller, thickening slowly in the warm air.
Not registering his bodily reaction, or more likely, not caring, he extended a hand, “I’m Paul.” His fingers were broad, palms calloused, the kind of hands that looked like they could both fix a boat engine and trace delicate patterns across a woman’s inner thigh.
She waded closer, until they were nearly touching, their bare skin separated only by the thin curtain of sea foam curling between their legs. “Lindsay,” she said, gripping his hand firmly. For a moment, they just stood there in the swirling surf, looking at each other. Lindsay wondered absently what his story was. He was a little doughy and a little hairy, yes, but he carried himself like a man who’d gotten over worrying about his body a long time ago. There was a calm to him, and a way his eyes seemed to twinkle at the corners, like he was perpetually in on every joke.
“You here with anybody?” he asked, as he released her hand.
Lindsay leaned to the right to look around him, the movement causing her breasts to sway slightly. She spotted Tina where she had left her, chatting with a good-looking couple sitting next to her. “I’m here with my friend Tina,” she answered, gesturing towards the beach with a listless sweep of her arm. Paul followed her fingers with a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes squinting against the brilliant Caribbean sun, before returning his attention to her.
Seeing Tina with the couple reminded her of their wager, and she blurted out, “Hey, Paul, how’d ya like a blowjob under the waterfall?” She blushed faintly, realizing how forthright that sounded, but Paul didn’t even blink. He grinned, lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, and replied, “While that sounds delightful, my dear, I don’t think my wife,” he nodded towards a heavy-set woman with silver-streaked hair, her nose buried in a dog-eared paperback, sitting naked in canvas beach chair, an empty matching chair beside her, “would approve.”
Lindsay looked over at the woman, her cheeks flushing crimson, heat spreading down her neck to her collarbone as she stammered an apology, “Oh, my god! I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I just asked you that.”
Paul dismissed her apology with a subtle wave of his hand, chuckling. “Forget it. I’m flattered. In all my years, never known a woman bold enough to ask a complete stranger if he wanted his dick sucked, out in public, no less.”
Even though Paul didn’t seem at all bothered, Lindsay was humiliated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, toes curling into the wet sand beneath the shallow water. The urge to either sprint across the beach to their car or dive beneath the foam-flecked waves until she dissolved into the sea was staggering. Paul’s eyes glittered as he registered her discomfort, offering her a kind, paternal smile. “Well,” he said, his voice warm, “I should get back to my wife. It was nice to meet you, Lindsay.” He gave her a small, respectful nod before turning to wade through the shallow surf, water lapping at his thick thighs as he made his way back up the shoreline.
Completely embarrassed, Lindsay turned to face the sea, shielding her eyes against the glare off the surface. About fifty yards offshore, a small sandbar rose from the turquoise depths, its pristine white surface breaking the water. The sight beckoned her, a private island for one, and she waded deeper, letting the surf rise to her waist before pushing off. She swam strongly, the water warm and bracing, buoying her naked body, each stroke taking her further away from her awkward encounter with Paul and closer to the isolation of the sandbar.
When she reached the small island of white sand, she staggered upright, gasping, her chest heaving with exertion. The sand beneath her feet was shockingly soft, silty fine as powdered sugar, yielding to her weight with each step. She flopped onto her back, sprawled starfish-wide, and let the Caribbean sun start to dry her skin. She heard the distinctive hum of a small outboard motor cutting through the lapping waves and turned her head to see a yellow inflatable dinghy skimming across the water, piloted by a shirtless, bronze-skinned man, heading from the catamaran directly toward her private strip of sand.
The dinghy coasted up the shallows, lifting in the last ripple of wake before the propeller went silent. The man looked to be in his early forties, with dark hair tied back into a small ponytail, a small silver hoop earring in his left ear, and an intricate tattoo on his right shoulder. He hopped out, his colorful board shorts secured low on narrow hips, splashing in the shin-deep water.
“Looks like we had the same idea,” he called, his accent one of an international vagabond, as he dragged the dinghy up onto the sand. Lindsay propped herself up on her elbows, unashamed of her nudity. The man’s eyes devoured every inch of her naked body with unhurried appreciation, starting with her slender toes half-buried in the powdery sand, then up the tanned curves of her calves and thighs to her pussy. His gaze lingered there a moment before traveling up her flat stomach to her full breasts, marked with fading tan lines, that rose and fell slightly with each breath, and finally to her face, meeting her blue eyes. He unzipped a soft-sided cooler and pulled out two icy-cold Red Stripes. “Thirsty?” he asked.
Lindsay sat up, brushing away fine white sand, and reached for the bottle. Droplets of cold water slid down the brown glass as the man handed her the beer, his gaze scanning the area surrounding her. “Not that I’m complaining,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, “but where’s your swimsuit?”
Lindsay laughed as she canted her head towards the land, “That’s a nude beach, didn’t you know that?”
The man did a double-take towards the shore, eyes widening as he registered the nude figures, then back to Lindsay’s naked body. He grinned, obviously delighted, and took a long swig from his bottle. “Actually, I didn’t know that. I thought it was just a beautiful location to drop anchor. I’m Dale, by the way,” he said, extending his hand.
She offered him her hand. “Lindsay,” she said as she wrapped her fingers firmly around his calloused palm, feeling the rough texture of a man who worked with rope and rigging daily. He held her hand a second longer than necessary, giving it a playful squeeze, and let his eyes make another slow, deliberate pass over her nudity. Lindsay grinned and took a healthy swig from her bottle, the cold beer bitter and refreshing against her parched throat. “So, Dale,” she asked, looking at him over the rim of her bottle, “you out here by yourself?”
“Yeah,” he said, finishing off his beer with a final tilt of his head and chucking the empty into the dinghy where it landed with a hollow clunk against the rubber floor. “I’m just hopping island to island, taking in the scenery.”
“That’s quite a vessel,” she said, admiring the catamaran anchored outside the bay; its clean white lines, the glint of polished stainless, and the massive sails, now furled, hung like sleeping wings against the towering mast. “I’ve never been on a catamaran,” she added, taking another drink, regarding him with a sidelong glance.
“You wanna see it? I can take you out,” Dale offered, voice casual with a practiced carelessness.
Lindsay grinned. “Sure,” she replied, and rose. She watched, uncaring, as his gaze tracked the bounce and sway of her breasts, then lower across her belly, and eventually to the small patch of pubic hair. The way he ogled her made Lindsay feel beautiful, her stomach fluttering with the anticipation of what she knew was going to happen.
She drained her beer as she watched Dale wade in the shallows to pull the dinghy off the sandbar. He held the inflatable raft steady and enjoyed the view of Lindsay’s bare ass as she clambered in and sat in the bow facing the rear of the craft. Once she settled, he pushed them off with a practiced kick, and the boat glided easily out into the blue. Their bodies bounced as Dale gunned the engine, sending a frothy white wake behind them as they headed toward the catamaran. Lindsay tilted her face skyward, eyes closed against the sun as the wind tousled her hair and flowed across her naked body. Each splash of salt spray against her skin sent a delicious shiver through her. Her boobs flopped and jiggled obscenely every time the dinghy slapped against a swell, and she spread her legs wide on the seat to feel the warm Caribbean air caress her labia, giving Dale an unobstructed view.
Dale cut the engine just before the hull of the catamaran, expertly snagging a nylon handle draped over the transom and yanking the dinghy closer. He held them steady, allowing Lindsay to climb the ladder onto the main deck. The boat was sleeker and more dazzling in person, gleaming white in the sun, with stainless rigging, teak decking, and the tight geometry of taut lines arrayed perfectly on their winches. Dale bounded up beside her, the narrow triangle of his pelvis just visible above his low-slung shorts, and gestured for Lindsay to follow him forward.
She trailed him across the deck as he pointed out little details, eventually leading her forward to the bow’s netted trampoline suspended over the transparent turquoise water. “Best seat in the house,” he declared, sweeping an arm in invitation. Lindsay smiled and climbed on, the netting yielding beneath her weight with each movement. She crawled to the front edge and lay down, the diamond pattern of the webbing pressing deliciously into her bare flesh. She bent her knees, planted her feet shoulder-width apart, and slowly spread her thighs, a wordless invitation that required no translation.
Dale moved onto the trampoline with predatory intent, the cords creaking beneath his muscular frame as he crawled between Lindsay’s splayed legs. She shivered, despite the Caribbean sun warming her naked body. He gripped her thighs with callused hands, spreading her wider until her glistening pink folds were completely exposed, her swollen clit peeking out from its hood, begging for his tongue.
He dipped his head, his hot breath teasing her dripping slit, making her throb with need. He lapped a broad stroke from the entrance of her pussy up to her clit, savoring the taste of saltwater and the tang of her cunt, then went back and did it again, slower, softer, the rough scrape of his stubbled chin prickling her inner thighs.
Lindsay arched her back, bucking her hips into the sweet torment of his tongue, moaning softly as she surrendered to the sensation. Dale suckled her clit with a perfect blend of tenderness and controlled aggression, alternating between rapid flicks and languorous swirls, each motion calculated to wring maximum pleasure from her body. His hands never stopped their slow, possessive motion; one palm spread wide across her lower belly, anchoring her as she writhed, the other sliding slowly up her sweat-slicked skin until it found her heaving tit, pinching and twisting her stiff pink nipple.
The boat rocked gently on the Caribbean swell as Lindsay panted and grasped for the webbing, the nylon lines biting into her palms as she held herself steady against the tremors rippling through her thighs. His tongue worked her with unrelenting precision, darting between her outer lips, curling up inside her to tease at her entrance, then swirling back to flick and draw tight circles around her engorged button. The tension built quickly, summoning an almost unbearable ache low in her pelvis. She pressed her heels harder into the webbing, lifting her hips so the swollen hood of her clit pressed into his mouth, shameless in her display, trembling as she gasped out, “Oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.” He obliged, the tip of his tongue pressing against her swollen nub so expertly she screamed. He started switching between sudden, hard pulses of suction to featherlight flicks, pushing Lindsay past the point of any shred of dignity. Her body tensed, every muscle seized, as her first orgasm struck, so explosive she thought she would tear right through the netting and fall into the sea below.
Dale grinned into her now sopping pussy, but he didn’t relent as she bucked and rode out every aftershock, his mouth never leaving her dripping cunt. When she tried to close her thighs, he growled and roughly dragged them open again, his strong fingers digging into her flesh, as he pinned her legs apart so she could only squirm helplessly against the merciless torture of his skilled mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, holy shit,” Lindsay gasped, the words dragged from her throat as tension doubled back on itself and peaked again, this climax sharper, meaner, tearing a hoarse animal cry from her chest. The netting beneath her was wet with sweat and pussy fluid, the mesh digging into her ass cheeks as she squirmed. Her tits bounced wildly with each desperate gasp, nipples painfully erect, but Dale wasn’t yet finished with her. He jammed two fingers inside her slick hole, curling them forward, searching and quickly finding the spongy, ridged patch of her G-spot. He pressed unerringly as his mouth locked down on her clit and began humming, the vibration creating tiny, devastating tremors in her core as he started pumping his fingers in a smooth, hypnotic rhythm. Each thrust of Dale’s hand made a squishy, squelching sound that was absurdly pornographic, pushing her to the trembling edge over and over. He drew out her pleasure, or was it agony, teasing her clit with careful, deliberate strokes of his tongue or grinding the pad of his thumb against it while he finger-fucked her tight pussy.
Lindsay felt a pressure building, different from before, her whole body tensing so hard that her toes curled in the mesh, every nerve sparking as her vagina convulsed around the invading digits. She slapped the trampoline with the flat of her palm, gasping, “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me,” a split second before the third orgasm ripped through her in brutal, unrelenting shocks. Dale finally dragged his fingers and mouth from her, his stubbled chin and swollen lips glazed with her sticky juices, as he gazed up the length of her body with predatory satisfaction. Her thighs quaked uncontrollably, pussy lips still pulsing and gaping open, her nipples protruding as her massive tits heaved with each gasping breath. Her skin flushed pink and glistened with sweat, her damp hair a wild tangle around her face.
Dale left her there, a wrecked mess, to go below and get them a couple of cold waters. Her limbs were splayed across the netting like a marionette with cut strings, her body still pulsing and twitching. When he returned, Lindsay had slightly composed herself and was propped up on her elbows. Her lips, swollen from biting them during her climaxes, curved into a satisfied half-smile. There was one thing she was desperate for, and it wasn’t a bottle of water.
Lindsay’s eyes locked on Dale’s tanned torso, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I need your cock,” she demanded, her voice a ragged remnant of her screams, raw and desperate with need. Dale set the sweating water bottles on the deck with a hollow thunk, his fingers hesitating at the drawstring of his board shorts before slowly untying the knot, letting the shorts slide down to pool around his ankles. Lindsay’s eager gaze traveled downward, and everything clicked into place: the extravagant sixty-foot yacht, his virtuosic oral skills, and why he didn’t get naked when he first met her on the small sliver of sand. Dale’s penis was small.
It stood at a mere three-and-a-half, maybe four inches, but it was somewhat girthy with a bulging head at the end like a little plum. Not that it mattered to Lindsay, especially after the tongue-fucking she just received. If anything, his smallness made her want him more, made her want to suckle it, nestle it between her tits, and lavish it with attention.
She flipped over and crawled on hands and knees across the webbing to the solid teak deck where he stood waiting. Her breasts swayed heavily beneath her as she moved with feline purpose. Her lustful gaze locked onto his stiff, diminutive shaft jutting proudly from a carefully groomed patch of curly hair, its head flushed dark and wet with pre-cum.
She knelt at his feet, sliding her hands up his muscular legs and gripping his bare ass cheeks. She licked the shimmering jewel off the tip of his pretty little penis before parting her lips and engulfing his entire throbbing shaft in one greedy swallow, her nose burying in his musky pubic hair. It was the easiest thing in the world, sucking this perfect, “fun-sized”, snackable cock. She hummed around his pulsing shaft, feeling it throb against her eager tongue as she sucked him hard, her cheeks hollowing while she bobbed her head. She pulled back, her lips making a wet, obscene pop as she released him just long enough to gasp, “Fuck my slutty mouth,” before swallowing him again, her tongue frantically working his sensitive frenulum.
Dale grasped the sides of her head and began to thrust his hips, using short, rapid strokes, his sweat-slick balls smacking wetly against Lindsay’s chin as her tongue massaged every inch. She looked up into his eyes and relaxed her jaw so he could fuck her face as hard as he wanted. Pre-cum flooded her mouth like salty syrup, coating her tongue as she swirled it under the soft head and up the ridge, blowing him with practiced, frantic suction. She tightened her grip on his butt, pulling him deeper, her muffled moans vibrating down the length of his shaft and into his scrotum. Dale erupted with a surprised, almost embarrassed groan, a geyser of hot, thick cum filling her mouth. She gulped and swallowed greedily, her nostrils flaring as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming flood, never breaking eye contact as sperm dribbled from the corners of her lips, down her chin onto her heaving breasts.
Dale released her head as her mouth pulled every last drop from his twitching cock, nursing him until he softened. She let the small, slippery shaft fall free and licked the sticky residue from her lips before smiling up at him, proud as a child who had discovered something new. For a moment, Dale could only stare, his face dazed with post-orgasmic euphoria as he caught his breath. “Holy fuck,” he murmured, reaching down to caress the top of her head, his fingers brushing through her tangled hair with unexpected gentleness. “You’re a hell of a cocksucker.”
Lindsay basked in the warmth of his praise, her chest swelling with satisfaction. She rose from her knees, her palms sliding up his back, savoring the way his body trembled at her touch. She wrapped her fingers around his flaccid penis, slick with cum and saliva. “I’m going to take a swim to cool off while you recharge,” she purred, giving it a slow, deliberate tug that made him gasp, her thumb circling the sensitive head, “I’m not done with this yet.”
She strode to the gunwale, her bare ass jiggling with each step across the sun-warmed teak. She paused at the edge and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes glittering. “Oh, and you better find some lube,” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with sin, “because you’re fucking me in the ass.” Without waiting for his reaction, she dove with perfect form into the crystalline sea, the azure surface shattering around her body, its bracing chill a jagged relief against her sweaty skin.
Dale gaped at the empty air where Lindsay had been for a long, dumbstruck moment, not believing his luck. He shook himself from his trance, drained half a bottle of water in three desperate gulps, then scrambled below deck, nearly tripping on the stairs. He frantically fumbled through drawers and cabinets, tossing aside sunscreen and first aid supplies until he located the plastic bottle of Astroglide he’d bought months ago.
Lindsay surfaced, treading water before rolling onto her back, floating easily, and letting the ocean’s gentle swells rock her naked body into a lazy trance. She could still taste Dale’s sperm on her tongue and every nerve ending still prickling in a bright afterglow of her multiple orgasms. She watched the fat, white bellies of clouds drift across the endless blue canvas overhead, their edges gilded by the afternoon sun, while salt water lapped at her earlobes. After several minutes of weightless bliss, she rolled onto her stomach and swam a couple of slow laps around the boat before ending up at the gleaming stainless steel swim ladder hanging from the boat’s transom.
Snatching a tropical print towel draped over the railing, Lindsay wrung seawater from her hair before patting herself dry. She made her way to the foredeck, her bare feet padding across the warm teak, leaving damp footprints. She spread the towel across the smooth surface, then positioned herself on all fours, her swollen pussy lips visible between her thighs as she lowered her chest to the deck, keeping her rounded bottom high in the air, waiting for Dale to emerge from below deck.
Dale looked for Lindsay in the water before making his way to the front of the boat, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw her; bare ass presented, labia slick and parted, her lower back arched in what could only be considered a sexual summons. He approached and took a moment to appreciate the view: her docile position, the soft curve of her buttocks, and the inviting pink of her cunt peeking out from between her thighs.
Lindsay twisted her head to look back at him through the tangled fall of her wet hair, blue eyes sparkling with feral desire as she saw the wonder on his face. She reached back with both hands to pull her ass cheeks apart, exposing her tiny, tightly clenched rosebud. “Please fuck my ass,” she begged coquettishly, wiggling her bottom.
Dale dropped to his knees behind her, clicking open the purple cap of the bottle. He squeezed a generous dollop onto his fingers, the clear gel oily between his digits as he massaged it gently around her waiting asshole. The touch was cool and wet, stark in contrast to the sun-hot skin of her cheeks. Lindsay laughed at the ticklish sensation, her spine shivering as the lubricant spread with practiced circles, dilating her in slow, delicious increments. He squeezed another generous amount into his palm and began to stroke himself slowly, making sure his entire member was covered and slick. He reached down and wiped his hand on the towel before placing his hands on her hips and pressing the head of his shimmering cock against her now well-greased entrance. He began to push, watching the blunt tip dimple the tight flesh of her rim, before popping inside. Lindsay, her hands now splayed against the towel for leverage, couldn’t suppress a sharp gasp, her asshole stretching around his slippery cock, but after the first shock faded, she moaned and pushed back until his short, thick shaft was buried completely inside her.
He let out a guttural sound, holding her hips fast as he drew back and thrust in again, gliding in and out with little resistance, each thrust sending new sparks of pleasure through her. She could feel every ridge and twitch as he began to fuck her in earnest, his balls slapping lightly against her dripping cunt as he pounded her tight hole. “Yes, yes, yes. Fuck my ass,” she panted, reaching back between her legs and frantically frigging her engorged clit, slathering it with the mixture of lube and the juices that seeped from her. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, you’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard,” she moaned, her voice breaking into a desperate whimper as her juices flooded between her thighs. “Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh fuck.”
Dale grunted like a wild stag and thrust harder, hips hammering into her, causing her fleshy ass to ripple with each impact. Lindsay’s body jolted beneath the pounding, her heavy breasts swinging wildly as she mashed her fingers on her slippery, swollen mound. She felt the undulation of pressure build inside her, terrifying in its intensity and yet delicious beyond measure. Her whole body quaked as she ground her clit against her hand, fingers frantic, Dale’s small, relentless cock pistoning in and out of her stretched asshole. When she finally came, Lindsay squeezed her eyes shut and shrieked, entirely uncaring if the sound of her cumming would carry across to the nude beach, to the entire island, to the goddamn world. It was a ruthless, animal climax; her sphincter clamped around Dale’s cock, and she felt a hot squirt of fluid jet from her pulsating cunt, running in streams across her fingers and down her wrist, soaking the towel.
Dale’s grunts devolved into a throaty, inhuman growl that seemed to originate from somewhere primordial within him. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he brutally yanked her back onto his twitching shaft. His cock pulsed inside her; once, twice, three times, as he came deep in her ass, hot semen spurting and pooling in her bowels, filling her with molten heat.
Dale released her hips, and Lindsay collapsed forward, completely spent, drool trailing from the corner of her slack mouth onto the soaked towel, his cock popping free of her ass with a sucking, slurping sound. She rolled onto her back, head spinning, still shaking from the orgasm that had ripped through her. Cum bubbled out from her gaping, violated hole, pearlescent and warm, trickling down the crack of her ass and mingling on the towel with the juices that had squirted from her throbbing pussy. Lindsay laughed, exhausted and giddy, the sound raw in her throat as she stretched out, savoring the knowledge that she’d just been well and truly anally fucked by a man she’d never met before, nor would ever see again.
Dale barely moved, just knelt on the deck catching his breath, eyes fixed on this blonde beauty he had just pumped his seed into, wondering if he could ever possibly top a moment like this again in his life.
They relaxed for a while, sprawled in a daze on the trampoline net, sipping slowly at water and letting the breeze cool their overheated bodies. Lindsay thought about Tina and told Dale she had to get back to her friend. She rinsed herself off with a deck shower that cast little rainbows in the air as she washed away the cum and lube and sticky evidence of their tryst.
Dale motored them back toward the beach, Lindsay’s breasts wobbling as the yellow raft thudded its way across the glittering chop. He steadied the dinghy for her, and she stepped into the shallows, wading up onto the warm, soft sand, giving him one final look at the ass he had the pleasure to fuck.
—ooOoo—
Tina must have dozed off and was startled when Lindsay’s cool, damp fingers touched her shoulder. “Looks like I missed the show,” Lindsay said, nodding at the young couple sprawled on a towel nearby. The man’s thick cock, crusty with dried sperm, lay spent against her brown cum-slicked thigh, his fingers lazily kneading one heavy breast. Her legs were splayed open, revealing her visibly swollen and oozing, flushed freshly-fucked pussy. Tina blinked, squinting against the afternoon sun as she followed Lindsay’s gaze. “You have no idea,” she softly chuckled, recalling her own beach romp.
Deciding they had had enough sun for the day, the women shook the sand from their towels with sharp snaps and redonned their sundresses, their bare nipples poking through the thin fabric with perverse pride. As they made the slow, meandering walk back up the sandy path toward the lot, neither woman spoke of their respective encounters, honoring the rules of their wager to disclose their sexual escapades at night before they went to bed. They loaded themselves back into the red convertible, Tina at the wheel this time, her hands steady as she navigated the narrow, winding road back toward the resort.
—ooOoo—
The friends were tired from the sun and the day’s adventures and opted to forgo the resort’s nightlife after dinner and just watch a movie in their room, sharing a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Tina pulled the comforter down to the foot of the bed, and the two sat cross-legged on the crisp sheets. She was wearing lavender silk shorts that clung to the curve of her ass and a matching camisole with delicate lace trim. Lindsay sported an oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt, the neckline stretched and slipping off one tanned shoulder, and a pair of simple cotton panties. Tina squinted at her phone screen, her tongue caught between her teeth as she fiddled with the Bluetooth settings, finally connecting to the wall-mounted television. “I think that’s it,” she announced triumphantly as the Netflix logo materialized on screen. “Find us a rom-com, I gotta pee,” she said, handing her phone to Lindsay.
Lindsay had just started scrolling through the film selections when a notification slid down from the top of the screen, momentarily obscuring the movie thumbnails. The banner displayed an email from [email protected] with the subject line “enjoyed meeting you today.” A flutter of curiosity tickled Lindsay’s stomach. She cast a glance at the closed bathroom door, then tapped her finger against the notification. The email expanded across the phone screen: “Tina. Ben and I really enjoyed our time with you today. Imogen,” followed by three blinking crimson heart emojis. Below the message sat a thumbnail image showing the turquoise ocean meeting golden sand, overlaid with the words “Beach Fun” rendered in a garish rainbow bubble font that reminded Lindsay of children’s birthday cards. Her eyes darted back to the bathroom door, hearing the toilet flush with a distant gurgle, before her finger, almost of its own volition, pressed firmly against the thumbnail.
Tina came out of the bathroom, hearing the unmistakable soundtrack of sex emitting from the television speakers, and laughed, “I said find a rom-com, not a porno.”
The laughter died in her throat when she saw Lindsay’s face, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with horror and fascination. Tina followed her gaze to the massive 65″ screen that displayed a couple fucking on a beach. It took several thundering heartbeats for Tina to register what she was seeing: her own body bouncing on Ben’s lap, his thick, veined cock disappearing between her thighs, stretching her swollen, wet pussy lips. The camera zoomed in on her face; eyes half-closed, mouth slack with pleasure, before panning down to capture her breasts bouncing wildly with each thrust. She heard Imogen’s Irish accent narrating over the obscene sound of slapping skin: “Look at this dirty slut impaling herself on my husband’s cock while everyone watches.” The video cut to the audience, their expressions a mixture of astonishment and arousal, before returning to Tina’s contorted face as she came, her body convulsing violently, followed by Imogen’s fingers scooping pearly cum from between Tina’s legs and feeding it to her eager, parted lips. Despite the thin black censorship bar across her eyes, her identity was unmistakable.
“What the fuck?” Tina gasped, her voice barely audible as the blood drained from her face. “I deleted that video.”
Lindsay tore her eyes from the screen to meet Tina’s. “This isn’t on your phone, Tina,” she said quietly. “It’s on the internet.”
Tina staggered over and sat on the end of the bed as Lindsay stopped the video and brought up the website where it was posted. It was a site called fuckmyhusband.com, and Tina’s video was front and center on the homepage, marked “Trending Whore” and had over seventeen thousand views with numerous comments below. Tina read the first few: This slut isn’t even pretending to be shy, she rides that cock like she hasn’t had any in years (probably true, lol); Love how her titties bounce while the whole beach just watches her get railed; Need more IRL cock-hungry soccer moms like her; Where’s this beach? I want a turn at stuffing that pussy.
Tina could barely comprehend the fact that thousands of anonymous strangers had watched her, no, were actively watching her right now, get fucked in public, her face contorted in degrading bliss, thick cum dripping from her swollen, completely stuffed pussy. Staring at the television where her most intimate moments had played out in high definition, Tina felt something unexpected bloom inside her chest. It should have been shame, but it wasn’t; what she felt instead was perverse pleasure, a dark and delicious pride. She let herself imagine the viewers: husbands at home, rubbing themselves while they drooled over her tits and greedy cunt, their oblivious wives in the other room; high school and college boys jacking off, imagining that it was their teachers or their friends’ mothers, getting fucked like that; lonely women, vibrators buzzing their clits, wishing that their own lives had even a fraction of that wet, raw hunger. She turned to look at Lindsay, the expression of shock rapidly fading away. “You know what? I don’t care,” her lips curling into an unexpected smile. “Nobody who actually knows me would ever believe that’s me anyway. I mean, seriously, I’m the boring mom who always brings Rice Krispies treats to every bake sale,” she added with a laugh that sounded almost genuine.
Lindsay pressed the phone gently into Tina’s palm. “You sure? It’s going to be out there forever, you know.”
Tina looked at her phone, watching the number of viewers of her video climb. “Fuck it,” she said, the blush of humiliation ceding to something else, illicit, exhibitionist pride. She scooted back to sit next to her friend, hip to hip, and tapped the thumbnail, the homemade porno of her slutty performance launching onto the TV once more.
They watched together, transfixed by the tableau of Tina’s body bouncing and shuddering in orgasmic abandon, the real-time counter at the bottom of the video ticking upward with every passing minute. Lindsay marveled at how Tina’s blush, after receding, did not resurge; instead, she observed her lips curl into a slow, delighted, wicked grin, watching herself get fucked. She reached over and squeezed Tina’s thigh in a quiet acknowledgment of their unbreakable friendship and her unwavering support.
“Think anybody from your office would watch this and recognize you?” Lindsay teased, sweeping a few wayward strands of hair from her face as she pretended to scrutinize the screen with the seriousness of a crime scene analyst. “I mean, that beauty mark next to your left nipple is pretty distinctive.”
“Guess I’ll know if the guys all start gathering around my office door asking me to go to lunch,” Tina chuckled as Lindsay topped off their wine glasses.
When the video finished playing, for the third time, Tina pressed the remote and watched darkness swallow the screen. “Well,” she said with a nervous laugh that didn’t quite match her earlier bravado, “I think that pretty much covers my beach adventure in excruciating detail.” She tucked her legs beneath her, nipples clearly visible through the silky fabric of her lingerie. “Go on, spill,” she urged excitedly, “and don’t leave anything out,” she added, her eyes gleaming lustfully.
Lindsay shifted to face her friend, her oversized t-shirt riding up to reveal her soaked panties, her pussy lips pressed against the fabric, leaving no doubt about her arousal. “I’ll tell you everything,” she said, licking her lips, “but just so you know, after watching you get fucked on camera, knowing that thousands of guys jerked off to it, you win the slut trophy for today.”
Lindsay began her own confession, voice low and steady but gathering momentum with every syllable. The words flowed through her like a narcotic; she wanted to remember it, to be witnessed in the remembering, to let Tina hold the boundary of her experience rather than let it dissipate like a wet dream. She recounted her swim, the sun, the humiliation with Paul (at which Tina giggled, “You actually offered to blow him with his wife right there on the beach?” incredulous and delighted), and then, with a new tone, described every detail of the man from the catamaran: the way her breasts bounced on the dinghy ride, the way the mesh trampoline pressed into her skin, the way he ate and fingered her pussy making her into a whimpering, writhing animal.
Each confession drew Tina deeper into the story, her breathing quickening as her hand disappeared beneath the waistband of her silky shorts, moving in a steady rhythm that Lindsay couldn’t help but notice with a surge of satisfaction.
Lindsay continued, sparring herself no shame: she described his little cock, holding her thumb and forefinger apart to illustrate, how she let him face-fuck her, how she swallowed every drop, how she let him fuck her in the ass. Tina’s fingers stilled between her legs as she gaped at Lindsay. “What?! You let a guy you just met shove his cock in your ass,” she said, flabbergasted. “Christ, I wouldn’t let my ex go near my butt, no matter how much he insisted,” she laughed, her masturbation resuming, more urgently now.
Lindsay just shrugged, a wicked little smile curling her lips. “You know what the best part was?” she giggled, “The look on his face when I told him he was going to get to do it, you could practically see his brain explode.” She closed her eyes, replaying the memory. “God, it felt so good, I came so hard I squirted. And when he shot his load into my ass, the warmth of it, the way it oozed out and trickled down my crack when he pulled out…oh my god.”
Tina moaned at the image, her hips rising off the mattress as she chased her own climax, fingers grinding her clit. Lindsay watched, mesmerized, as Tina’s body tensed, every muscle corded and tight, the skin on her chest above her camisole mottled with a feverish blush. Tina’s orgasm came in stuttering jolts, then completely overtook her, her head thrown back, a whimper tearing from her throat. Her hand stayed pressed between her thighs until the tension finally ebbed, her breathing raw and uneven.
“If you’re going to get yourself off, so am I,” Lindsay laughed, dragging her panties down her thighs, exposing her swollen lips and the glistening creases between. She yanked the t-shirt over her head and tossed it aside, then sprawled back against the headboard, one knee drawn up, the other on the bed, fingering herself with cheerful indifference. Tina recovered and watched Lindsay work herself with greedy, urgent movements, her hand a blur as she fucked herself, two fingers plunging into her sopping cunt, her other hand spreading her labia wide so Tina could observe every detail of her masturbating.
She muffled a scream when she came, her thighs clamping hard around her hand as her cunt spasmed. Her palm ground against her throbbing clit while clear fluid squirted forcefully between her fingers, soaking the sheets beneath her ass. Lindsay cackled with delight and spread her trembling thighs, fingering herself through the aftermath, her tits heaving with each ragged breath. She barely had time to flick her cherry-red clit in short, savage bursts before another wave hit, this time shattering her composure entirely. Her toes curled as she sobbed out a helpless, giddy laugh that dissolved into breathless whimpers.
They sat in companionable silence for long minutes before Tina surveyed the wrinkled and sodden sheets below them. “Guess we’ll have to share a bed tonight,” she proclaimed, “this one’s a mess.”
Lindsay stretched, drowsy and satisfied. “Fine by me,” she said, voice thick with post-orgasmic fatigue. She slid off the mattress and climbed naked under the covers of the adjacent bed.
Tina hopped off the disheveled bed. “Aren’t you at least going to put on some pajamas or something?” she asked, lips quirking into a bemused smile that dimpled her left cheek, the thin strap of her lavender camisole slipping down her arm.
Lindsay flopped onto her stomach, breasts squashed beneath her, and grabbed an extra pillow from the headboard, burying her head in it. “Nope,” she mumbled, her light snoring beginning.
Sighing, Tina climbed in beside her friend and clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
Thanks for reading. Likes and favorites are greatly appreciated, and your comments are always welcome.
