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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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*All original material and characters herein copyright
1997 by the author. All rights reserved by the author.
Free sites only please* http://www.slowhand.com/*
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Cyber-Dreams
by Slowhand Luke (slowhand@dial.pipex.com)
***
A little cyber can be healthy for you. (MF, cyber)
***
She awoke to the sound of the sea. Consciousness crept
in slowly like the tide, and she luxuriated in that
perfect moment that exists between sleep and
wakefulness. Her body felt vital and alive - all her
muscles relaxed and all her senses heightened. For a
long time she lay quite still, as if fearing that even
the slightest movement could break the spell and
evaporate her warm sense of comfort and wellbeing.
The bed beside her was empty, but her lover's shape was
still imprinted on the tumbled sheets. He must have
left early and been unwilling to disturb her. Smiling,
she thought of his face, his kind eyes and sexy mouth.
She felt a jolt deep in her loins as her mind threw up
an image at random, of that mouth fastened to her
breast, suckling hard whilst his tongue teased her
nipple.
A whole string of other pictures, feelings, and sounds
flooded through her awareness, as if triggered by the
first. The sound of her own breath, loud and gasping in
her ears. The look of his eyes, screwed up in
concentration as he came. The feeling of his sperm
trickling between her thighs as he fell asleep beside
her, his arm thrown across her body.
She enjoyed the memories for a few minutes, but
gradually the need to pee became stronger than the
desire to remain recumbent, and she got up and wandered
into the bathroom, gathering up a robe from the floor
as she went.
When she emerged, the seagulls were calling outside and
she wandered out onto the balcony to look across the
beach. The whole flock was way out over the water,
chasing after a fishing boat whose wake sparkled
brightly in the morning sun. The robe was wrapped
loosely around her and she shivered slightly in the
cool breeze blowing along the shore.
Returning inside, she grabbed a cool glass of orange
juice from the fridge and went to sit down at her
computer. Firing it up, she skipped quickly past the
work applications she had so sincerely intended to
spend time with over her vacation, and flipped instead
to the folder containing her web browser. In seconds,
the modem was screeching it's binary welcome down the
line to her local access provider, then it all went
quiet and she was on line. Calling up her bookmark
sheet, she selected her favourite chat room, then
entered her handle.
The screen blandly announced her presence: Welcome
Beachcomber!
A half dozen other messages, sent prior to her arrival,
disappeared up the page. She scanned them quickly,
learning that Hard8" was a fuckwitted wanker, Ron was
feeling lonesome, and Shelley (f/23) was either having
a real good time or else was in some very serious pain.
Smiling to herself, she reset the number of lines to
20, enabling to see more of the previous conversations,
then typed her own message:
Beachcomber: Good morning party people! Are y'all early
risers, or aintcha been to bed yet... to sleep, that is
*Grin*
The replies came trickling back:
Hard8": Early riser? Beachcomber, honey, you know I'm a
riser at ANY time - night or day! Like to PM me this
morning?
Ron: *YAWN* Been up all night, Beachcomber - you m/f?
Shelley: (f/23) UUURGH! OH! Yeah! Yeah! NO! NONONONONO!
ARRRGH! I'm CUMMING!
Checking the user list, she was disappointed to see
that none of her other friends were there. Hard8" was
OK, but his imagination was severely limited - almost
as bad as Shelley (f/23) seemed to be. No doubt the two
of them would get on well together - probably already
were, which would explain Shelly's outpourings. Someone
really ought to show the poor girl how to send PRIVATE
messages to save her blushes. Of course, it was always
possible she liked being watched.
Beachcomber smiled at that thought. She typed again:
Beachcomber: Shelley - are you just masturbating for
the rest of us to enjoy, or have you got some sneaky
partner who hasn't bothered to show you how to PM?
Shelley replied quickly:
Private Message from Shelley (f/23): Just showing off a
little... Uh! Uh! Uh! HrrrNNNGPH!
*giggle*
That about exhausted the possibilities for chat as far
as Beachcomber was concerned. On impulse, she decided
to E-mail John at work.
LOVER, she sent, after switching to her mail server,
GIVE IT ALL UP AND CUM HOME TO ME...
I'M BORED. *KISS*
Before logging off completely, she flicked back to the
chatroom. on the off chance that someone interesting
had arrived. A new message intrigued her.
Welcome: Don Juan!
An interesting choice of name, she thought, and quickly
typed:
Beachcomber: Anyone tilting at windmills out there?
The reply came:
Don Juan: Wrong Don Juan, I'm afraid, Beachcomber...
*S* I was thinking more of 'Don Juan de Marcos'
The conversation continued rapidly.
Beachcomber: *Sly grin* In that case, have YOU ever
really loved a woman?
Don Juan: *LOL* I haven't made 1502 yet... but I'm
working on it!
Are you m/f, Beachcomber?
Hard8": He's never REALLY loved a woman, Beachcomber,
not up the ass - you need ME for that!
Beachcomber: I'm all woman, honey... and in search of a
little love right now. You want to swell your total? Or
anything else that comes to mind? *Blows him a kiss*
Shelley (f/23) Take me, Don Juan! I'm spread wide open,
waiting for you!
Beachcomber: *mildly* Shut up, Hard.
Don Juan: *Catches kiss and presses it to his lips.
Swirls cape.* Beachcomber, it would be an honour to
make love with you... *Dark eyes smouldering*
Hard8": *Meekly* Yes, Beach. Whatever you say. Shutting
up right now. You won't hear another peep out of me.
No, not even a little one!*LOL*
Don Juan: Shelley, my apologies, but it would be an
insult to the gorgeous Beachcomber if I were to give
her any less than my full attention.... Beachcomber,
tell me how you are looking tonight...
Beachcomber: I'm not sure about the 'honour', DJ - but
I certainly hope it will be a PLEASURE! *S*
As the last message from Don Juan appeared, Beachcomber
paused to consider... what should she tell him? It was
fun sometimes to beguile them with impossible
fantasies, but this guy seemed more genuine than most
and unlikely to be impressed by a lie. And besides, it
was even more fun to think of him fantasising over HER!
She decided to tell him the truth.
Beachcomber: Well... I'm about 5'6" tall, with long,
curly dark hair. I'm 31 years old with luscious blue
eyes and a build that has been described (recently!) as
'shapely'. I'm dressed in a soft white bathrobe, tied
with a long belt...and underneath - well, you'll have
to find that out for yourself... PS I'm a little
dishevelled right now, having only just crawled out of
bed!
Shelley (f/23) *Humph* Suit yourself, Don 'daftass'
Juan - you don know what your missing. Wanna play,
hard8? PM me.
The line was silent for a while as Hard8" and Shelley
(f/23) slipped into PM land. Beachcomber updated
several times, wondering if her new lover had left her,
before his next message arrived.
Don Juan Beachcomber, your face and body delight me
*shiver* I tremble in anticipation of our love. I am 23
years old, but I hope you will not let this discourage
you... I adore older women - they are so sensual and
alive.
I am 5'11", slim with a youthful physique. I have dark
hair and smouldering eyes. I am dressed in belted black
trousers, a black shirt and black calf boots. I also
wear a cape.... guess what? Black.
*Takes your hand and kisses your fingers* Let me share
pleasure with you...
She typed quickly:
Beachcomber: *Shivers in response, then pulls you to
your feet* *Deep kiss, running hands over your chest*
Undress me!
Don Juan: Loosening your belt, I open your bathrobe,
pulling it down from your shoulders, then leaning
forward to kiss the exposed flesh. Then I stand back to
admire you... what do I see?
Beachcomber: My creamy white breasts are pushed forward
within a midnight blue bra, which complements my eyes.
A matching pair of knickers hide my secret flesh. All
of my skin is smooth and soft... there is a sense of
yielding ripeness to my body. I use the space you have
made between us to reach out and unfasten your shirt...
Don Juan: As you work my buttons, I raise my hands to
your breasts, feeling them and testing their weight.
The smooth silky material of your bra feels good under
my fingers, and I can just discern the texture of your
nipples as they begin respond to my touch. As you reach
the last button, I shrug out of the shirt and reach
behind to unclip you.
Beachcomber: *soft moan* MMmm, yes... free my breasts.
I want you to suck on them, close your lips around them
and make me feel good.
Don Juan: Nuzzling and kissing your neck, I remove your
bra completely, letting it fall to the floor by your
robe. My hands slip round to hold your full, rounded
breasts once more, and my tongue dances downwards to
circle your left nipple - teasing, coming close, but
never quite making contact.
This was starting to sound good. Easing her robe open,
the Beachcomber began to caress her own breast, her
hand imitating the actions Don Juan described. With the
other hand, she typed:
Beachcomber: Holding your head to my breast with one
hand, I try to guide your mouth to my nipple - at the
same time, my other hand reaches down and unfastens
your belt. I start to unzip you.
Don Juan: I shift my hips back to assist you, and my
shaft springs free. It feels warm and alive and throbs
slightly in your hand. My mouth moves across to finally
engulf your nipple, my soft tongue caressing your skin
as I begin to suckle gently.
Beachcomber: That feels NICE... My hand moves on your
shaft, holding you firmly but softly. My fingers curl
underneath to touch your balls.
Don Juan: *Groans* MMmm.. *Backs off* Let me get rid of
these... *drops pants and steps out of them, leaving
boots behind. Cape rustles to the floor* I take your
hand and lead you to my bed...
Beachcomber: I come willingly, following close behind
you, but when we get there, I skip ahead and lean
forward across the bed, presenting you with my silk-
clad behind.
Don Juan: Standing close behind you, I press my
hardness into you through the silk of your panties. I
am exited now, and a little moisture oozes from me,
increasing the size of the wet patch that is already
there...
Smiling to herself, the Beachcomber allowed her hand to
drift down from her breast, to press into the gusset of
her panties, imagining the feel of this handsome,
enigmatic stranger's knob pressing there instead. He
was right - there was a wet patch, and she moaned,
spreading her legs a little to touch herself more
easily. As she typed her next message, she was unaware
of the door opening downstairs.
Beachcomber: MMMmm... I wriggle my ass backward, making
your cock butt against my pussy through the single
layer of damp silk that separates us... 'Take them
off,' I gasp.
Don Juan: I lean forward to kiss your neck, grinding my
hips hard against you from behind. Then I hook my
fingers into the waistband of your knickers, and lean
back once more as I draw them slowly past your hips and
thighs before letting them drop to the floor...
Shifting her hips, the Beachcomber pushed the gusset of
her knickers aside, in too much of a hurry to bother
removing them. Her questing fingers stroked along her
wet opening, then settled on the hood of her clit,
making her shiver with the tiniest of melting climaxes.
Outside of her awareness, the door behind her opened.
Beachcomber: I lean even further forward, spreading my
legs to let you see the secrets you have uncovered. My
labia are thick, swollen with the blood that is rushing
through them, and my clitoris pops out from under its
hood of its own accord. I am glistening with moisture,
and the aroma of my sex wafts up to fill your nostrils.
Don Juan: I stand behind you a moment, placing my hands
on your buttocks and pulling them gently apart, the
better to admire the sight with which you gift me... I
inhale deeply - the smell of you is a heady drug which
intoxicates me. Then I kneel, slowly, reverently, and
place my tongue precisely on your centre of pleasure.
A sudden movement behind her brought the Beachcomber
back to her senses. John was there. She turned just in
time to see his pants join his shirt on the floor,
then, with a smile he ducked beneath the workstation.
Two hands now free, she felt his tongue run the length
of her slit as she typed her response.
Beachcomber: MMMmmm! Oh! I wriggle my ass once more,
pressing back into your face. That feels SO good!
Stroke my bum while you lick me. But not for too long -
I don't know how much longer I can wait to feel you
inside me.
John's tongue moved in her pussy with vigorous
excitement, lapping up the juices that were now flowing
freely from her. He even turned his head to kiss her
thighs and lick the juices from them. She moaned,
waiting eagerly for Don Juan's response.
Don Juan: I taste you, kissing all around your sweet
entrance, delighting in your flavour, before pushing my
tongue deep inside you. I withdraw it slowly, then push
back in rhythmically, bringing one finger up at the
same time to stroke your clit. My touch is feather
light and teasing - too good to want me to stop, but
never quite enough to make you cum.
The thought aroused her further, and she bucked her
hips forward onto John's tongue, sneaking one hand down
at the same time to rub furiously at her clit. The
other continued her conversation.
Beachcomber: I reach back and take hold of your head,
pulling you up by your hair until you are leaning right
over me. My other hand slides between my legs, grabs
your prick and guides your cock head to my pussy. I rub
it a couple of times across the gaping entrance, then
slide you in and wait for your response.
Don Juan: Taking hold of your hips, I pull you back
onto me as I feed my whole length into you in one slow,
smooth stroke. I grind my hips against you, moving them
in a deliciously erotic circle. Then I withdraw and
start to pump in earnest... I would prefer to be
restrained and sensual, but I'm too excited now, and I
thrust deep and hard.
John's tongue had withdrawn now and he was busy feeding
as many fingers into her as would fit. Once inside, he
curled them up, crossing and uncrossing them to expand
the soft walls of her pussy in directions she wouldn't
have believed possible. She pressed her thighs in hard
against his head as another climax shook her. She
managed one last message before losing control
completely.
Beachcomber: Oh yes, that's just what I need. OOOOH!
I'm so wet for you, I NEED YOU. God, that's good - fill
me up hard and deep I - I - I'm CUMMING!!
With that, she stood, knocking her chair out of the
way, and drew John up from under the workstation,
kissed him deeply, then manouevered him behind her as
she placed both hands on the workstation and lent
forward towards the screen. Don Juan's last message
appeared even as John's nimble fingers spread her wide
open before nudging his thick cockhead into her.
Don Juan: Feeling your muscles clench around me, I lean
forward and squeeze your breasts as you cum, twirling
the nipples between thumb and fore finger. I can feel
my own passion rising as you buck and writhe on my
cock. A few more strokes is all it takes to send
streaming ribbons of cum flying up inside you... I
groan out loud and call your name, pump a few more
times, then collapse, resting my weight on top of
you...
As she read it, and imagined the feel of her cyber-
lover's body on top of her own, the pressure of John's
cock moving inside her made her insides seem to churn
and a sublime, melting climax engulfed her. Her knees
buckled and she was supported only by her arms, and by
John's hands on her hips. Her internal muscles flexed
wildly and she felt the entrance to her womb being
butted by the force of John's stroke, and as he came,
she was sure she could feel those streaming ribbons of
cum shooting up inside her.
'Oh god,' she murmured, her face and chest flushed a
bright strawberry pink, 'that was SOOoo good... Oh God,
oh Don!'
-=**=-
Slumped together over the desk, they lay still for a
short while, breathing deeply and enjoying the languid
sensual aftermath of pleasure. Regaining some
composure, John began to kiss and nibble gently at the
base of the Beachcomber's neck, sending shivery
tendrils of pleasure down her spine. She moved beneath
him and felt his cock stir within her in response.
Squirming, moving herself around him as the dull flame
in her belly flickered back into life, she wondered if
he was ready for a second round - but it was not to be.
With a rude squelching sound, he pulled reluctantly
from her, his softening prick twitching in vain as it
attempted to regain its former glory. She sighed,
knowing that it was only rarely that John was able to
maintain an erection beyond the first orgasm - more
usually, his manhood would wilt, becoming
hypersensitive, almost too painful to touch. It was a
shame...
Recognising the look in her eyes, John smiled
mischievously. 'Still need some more, baby?' he asked,
already knowing the answer. Without waiting for her to
nod her assent, he scooped her up in his arms and
carried her through to the bedroom. With one arm
wrapped around his neck, the Beachcomber could feel the
muscles in his shoulders moving as he walked. In a
sense that she could only think of as silly, his
strength and power were reassuring as well as sexy. She
always felt safe in his arms, in an odd way that had
nothing to do with any tangible threat.
Then all rational thought fled as he placed her gently
down on the bed and proceeded to tease her wet sex
lovingly with his tongue, coaxing her toward climax
once more as he sipped on a heady cocktail of their
mingled juices. His actions were slower this time, less
urgent, and she lay right back, allowing herself to
relax and enjoy the slow building of pleasure. When she
finally came, her breath was released in a drawn out
sigh rather than any kind of exclamation, and Johns
lips closed over her labia, engulfing her sex
completely as her orgasm tremored through her body.
Then, reluctantly, he withdrew, lingering before
breaking the contact completely and leaving her to
drift slowly back to earth while he dressed hurriedly
for work. By the time he was ready, she had recovered
enough to straighten his tie, and kiss him soundly
before shooing him out of the door.
'Don't work too hard,' he called from the driveway.
'Try to get some air, and don't forget that we're at
Phil and Susie's for dinner tonight!'
She grinned. 'Not very likely,' She shouted back. 'I
don't think I need any memory tips from the man who
forgot his own birthday last year, thank you!'
He grimaced. 'I don't think I'm ever going to be
allowed to forget that one', he said mournfully.
'No,' she agreed, 'probably not. I have to try to get
you to remember something!'
Later, when she was once more on her own, the
Beachcomber fell to wondering about the question of
stamina. Why should it be that John was left high and
dry whilst her own pleasure continued unabated.
Sometimes it seemed that after his climax he became no
more than an adjunct to her pleasure. Not that he ever
complained ~ it just struck the Beachcomber as somewhat
unfair.
But there had been times ~ a few, glorious times ~ when
John's erection had continued beyond orgasm and he had
revelled in the sensation of moving inside her vagina
whilst it was awash with his own seed. Like the first
time she had put on a blue movie as inspiration, for
instance. And at those times the Beachcomber's pleasure
had been unending... not just at the physical
sensations of prolonged orgasm, but also at an
emotional level as she took delight in his unfeigned
ecstasy, his joy at being able to match her stroke for
stroke, shudder for shudder, gasp for gasp.
But such occasions were lamentably rare. It should, she
reflected, be like that every time. Then she
reconsidered... perhaps not every time, as it might
become boring. Ninety percent of the time would leave
room for a deliciously erotic sense of uncertainty.
Mulling this thought over, she glanced at the clock and
realised she had better get on with some work. Half the
day was gone already. She dressed quickly, throwing on
a flared skirt and short t-shirt well suited the heat
of the day. She was tempted not to bother with clothes
at all, but she knew that she would concentrate better
with them on than off.
Firing up her PC once more, she resisted the temptation
to go back into the chat room, and forced herself to
get on with compiling a series of reports she would
have to present on her return to work. Boring stuff
about long term recruitment and training needs, she
livened it up where possible with coloured graphs and
visuals to be used as overheads. She wished that her
work colleagues were a little less stuffy and
conservative, so that she could really go to town on
the graphical side of the presentation, but it was
important to keep it 'appropriate'.
When she finally decided enough was enough, she was
still quite a way from finishing. But, she figured,
this was supposed to be her vacation, after all and she
had at least made a start.
Purposefully refusing to feel even the slightest
flicker of guilt, she logged on to the net and headed
back to the chat room. It was busy this time - booming,
in fact - and she spent several minutes X-ing out all
the people she knew she didn't want to talk to. Two of
the names scrolling down her screen, however, made her
break out into a grin, and she quickly sent a message
to her longtime cyber-friends.
Beachcomber: Hi, Bel! Hi, TJ! How are you both doing?
TJ ~ don't bother replying if your fingers are tied up
with someone else (again!)!
Tapping her fingers impatiently on her workstation, she
waited for their responses. TJ, it transpired, was not
tied up with anyone, but was open to offers, and Bel
was doing fine... just hanging out and chilling while
fending off (or just plain ignoring) all the PMs from
lonely, horny men. Such as TJ.
That comment provoked a brief row until TJ was
convinced Bel had just been kidding, and then they
exchanged small talk and banter for a while until the
Beachcomber got up to fetch a drink. When she returned,
TJ and Bel were bitching about her slow response
time... and suggesting that she had dipped out into PM
land for some private cyber-sex. They were even
threatening to leave the room without her. She also
noticed that another friendly face had appeared whilst
she was out of the room and was asking for her.
She grinned and sent her reply.
Beachcomber: TJ, Bel... don't you two run off & leave
me just 'cos I'm not as FAST as you would like. That's
the mistake a lot of guys make! Hi, Knight! How's
things? Listen, I want to talk to you guys... something
on my mind...
Their responses arrived pleasingly quickly.
Top Jimmy: Hey, don't worry, Beach - we were only
kidding! You KNOW I'll go as slow as you like! *s*
What's on your mind, hun?
Knight: Things are fine with me, Beachcomber... except
that I just discovered I'm not Bel's favourite cyber-
lay any more *pout* *lol*
Bel: What's up, B? Something bugging you?
Hard8:Don't you want to talk to me, too, Beach? I have
the answer to ALL your problems! *smirk*
Beachcomber couldn't help laughing. Hard8's persistence
was admirable, if nothing else. She replied:
Beachcomber: I'm sure you do, Hard, honey... but I
wouldn't want to deprive you of the opportunity to play
it with yourself. Why not go and do that right now?
TJ, Bel, Knight... It's nothing serious. It's just been
on my mind lately how unfair it is that men don't
generally get to have nice long slow orgasms or to cum
more than once in a row like the rest of us. I wondered
if you had any thoughts on that? ... and before you say
a word, Hard, I won't believe anything you say, so
don't even bother, ok?
There was a short delay before the replies came. Tj's
was the first to arrive.
Top Jimmy: Hmm... that's a tricky one, Beach. I can
only guess that we make up for it in intensity? Or am I
deluding myself? BTW, have you ever considered sharing
your multi-orgasms with the world in the form of a wav
sound file? *lol*
Knight: I have been sulking about that ever since I
first heard about multiple orgasms... I blame women's
magazines personally. I didn't mind them inventing
single orgasms for women, but they've gone and put
things all out of balance, now!
Bel: You having man troubles Beach? Is your lover from
the 'roll over fart & fall asleep' school of after
play? I think you deserve better, girl!
Hard8": I'm hurt, Beachcomber! You don't believe I can
cum & keep right on cumming for over a minute,
unleashing endless hot sticky torrents of sperm... then
rest up & start over three minutes later? I can send
you an Mpeg movie file to prove it if you like!
A brief flurry of typing, and the Beachcombers next
post was on its way, and the conversation continued
from there.
Beachcomber: TJ... I don't know - I never experienced a
male orgasm ;-)
But mine are pretty intense... AND prolonged! (And no,
I'm NOT gonna record them for you, ya perv! :-) )
Knight... what can ya do with the media, huh? Bel...No,
hun - my lover is wonderful... perfect (?)... he leaves
me surfing on waves of pleasure, and gasping for him to
stop. I would just like to be able to produce the same
reaction in him.... watch HIS face as he rolls around
in helpless ecstasy for minutes on end... and then be
able to start him all over again. Is that too much to
ask? *lol*
Top Jimmy: Beach... wish I could let you know just
EXACTLY how good an orgasm feels for a guy... but on
the other hand, the idea of you having me helpless with
pleasure for some time is also pretty appealing :-) PS
No, Brad - I'm straight, ok?
Hard 8": So you want this movie or not, Beachcomber? I
can go fetch the video camera now... all I'd need would
be for you to provide a little inspiration...
Knight: OH, Beach! You ever learn how to do that and
I'm yours for life!!!
Bel: Hmmmm, I don't think you're gonna get that from a
man, beachcomber... perhaps you need to experiment a
little? Where's Tina when you need her, huh? Hard8 - I
really don't think Beach, or anyone else (except maybe
Brad) is interested... so here's a little inspiration
(or at least a suggestion) for you - why not GO FUCK
YOURSELF!!!???
Beachcomber:*lol* Thanks, Bel - I couldn't have put it
better myself!
Top Jimmy: Yeah, Brad... give Hard8 a go! I'm sure
HE'LL oblige you...
Beachcomber: TJ... yes, I really would like to know how
it feels for you guys, but I guess I never will.
Knight... you're mine for life anytime I want you,
anyhow hun ;-). Bel..... mmmm, interesting suggestion,
but I don't know that I'm ready for all that... I'd
miss the feel of a nice warm cock in my hand.... and
other places. Besides, it's one person in particular I
have in mind, and he's a man... My man!
Brad: So how about it, Hard8? Do you have any idea how
good it feels to be sucked off by another guy, who
KNOWS how good it feels to have a soft tongue slide
over your glans while a warm palm cradles your balls?
Are you man enough to cope with ME? I don't think so...
This taunt unleashed a rabid torrent of homophobia, in
the course of which the Beachcomber learned a few new
and interesting ways to mix 'n' match profanities. Then
all went silent as Hard8 fled the room, fearing, no
doubt, for his innocence. The Beachcomber thought it
was strange that someone so fascinated with other
people's asses should be so violently protective of his
own.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as the
Beachcomber chatted idly with her friends, and played
at teasing some of the men. She half hoped that Don
Juan would reappear, but he did not and she caught
herself on the verge of feeling disappointment when she
finally heard John's key turn in the front door. This
time, at least, she was not too distracted to notice
his arrival.
'Hi lover,' he grinned as he strolled into the room.
'How was your day?' He peered at the computer screen,
then switched his attention back to her face. 'Have you
been on that thing all day?' he asked.
'Most of it, I guess,' she replied airily.
'And you've not been outside at all?'
'Uh-uh'
'That's very bad of you, you know,' he said, putting on
his 'stern' voice. The Beachcomber smiled inwardly as
she recognised the tone, but was careful to hide her
laughter as she bit her lip in apparent concern.
I'm sorry, baby,' she said, 'but I was so lonely here
without you...'
'That's all very well,' he said, 'but you know this
vacation was supposed to be for you to relax and look
after your health... I think that if you are forgetting
to do so, I may have to punish you a little to help you
remember. For your own good, of course.'
'P-punish?' She said, her eyes wide and her little-girl
stammer artfully contrived.
'Yes. I think I am going to have to spank you,' John
pronounced solemnly, in the same voice he probably used
to announce a drop in the company share price.
Suddenly, the Beachcomber grinned and leapt up out of
her chair and made a dash for the doorway. 'Well you're
gonna have to catch me first, Mister!' she exclaimed,
then slammed the door behind her as with a whoop, John
dropped his briefcase and made chase.
The house was large enough to run in circles without
crashing into each other, and they were both red faced
and panting by the time he cornered her in the lounge.
Grabbing a large blue cushion from the sofa, she shook
it threateningly as he approached, his arms spread wide
to prevent her from dodging past to renew the chase. As
he moved into range, she swung hard, bouncing the
cushion of his head. He staggered back slightly and she
swung again, pressing home her advantage as he tried to
shield himself with his arms. Then, on her third swing,
just as she had almost enough space to get past him,
the cushion burst, showering the room with a cloud of
small, blue-dyed feathers. She hit him again, both of
them laughing by now, but her weapon had gone decidedly
limp after its explosion, and he warded it off easily
and grabbed her by both arms. 'Now,' he said
melodramatically, 'Now you are mine!'
With that, he sat immediately on the sofa, ignoring the
platoon of feathers that took flight once more around
him, and threw her unceremoniously across his lap. The
Beachcomber shrieked and kicked her legs, laughing as
she tried to break free. Before she could do so, John
managed to land three or four wildly aimed slaps on her
buttocks with the palm of his right hand. They were
swift, and more teasing than painful, but even so the
Beachcomber felt the padded flesh of her behind quiver
resiliently in response. When she finally managed to
squirm out of his grasp, evading the fifth blow
completely, her skin was tingling with heightened
sensitivity, and she could feel the shape of his hand
almost as clearly as if it had been imprinted on her
bottom.
Even though she had rather enjoyed the physical
sensations of being spanked, she was not about to let
John off lightly for the humiliation of the assault.
Grinning victoriously, she turned and sped away once
more, leaving John to fumble around adjusting the set
of his suddenly bulging crotch. This time, she had a
specific destination in mind, and by the time he caught
up with her in the kitchen she was armed and ready for
him.
He rounded the corner into the kitchen at top speed,
and found himself face to face with the nozzle of the
plant sprayer that had caused so much aggravation in
the Garden Centre the month before. It was, he thought
as he waited for the inevitable blast of cold water,
ironic that she had been the one insisting that he only
wanted the top of the range battery-powered model as
some kind of toy.
For a second nothing happened, and he wondered whether
she might perhaps have forgiven him or - heaven forbid
- decided to be sensible about the whole thing. Then
her eyes narrowed and time almost seemed to stop as she
squeezed the trigger in agonising slow-motion. What
spurted from the nozzle, however, was not water but
some kind of foam, and it arced towards him with all
the graceful unstoppability of a New England
Linebacker. The first blast took him square in the
chest, ruining his shirt and splashing up underneath
his chin. Reality surged back, at full speed and he
turned to run, hoping to escape further punishment. It
was not to be, however. A treacherous puddle of foam
pooled around his foot, pulling it out from underneath
him as he took his first step.
A brief sail through the air later, he landed in an
undignified heap face down on the floor. About a
nanosecond after that, his lover landed heavily on top
of him, sitting astride his hips and laughing
hysterically, the foam still spraying out of control,
soaking them both to the skin. With an effort, he
twisted beneath her, rolling face up and trying to fend
off the spray with his hands.
The Beachcomber grinned. John was wriggling, squirming
underneath her, and the almost incidental grinding of
their hips together made her damp in a way that had
nothing to do with the foam. When her vulva bumped and
rubbed over a cock that was unmistakably hard, a sudden
jolt of lust arrowed tinglingly along the length of her
spine. Throwing the plant spray carelessly to one side
she bent forward, her hands going to the buttons of his
shirt.
'Let's get these wet things off you,' she muttered half
to herself as she pulled his shirt open. His hands went
almost automatically to her breasts, caressing and
squeezing them through the clingy wet fabric of her t-
shirt and rubbing his thumbs repeatedly over her
protruding erect nipples. She moved backwards,
divesting him of his pants, then sat up, unclipped her
skirt and pulled the shirt over her head, enjoying the
look on his eyes as her breasts bounced happily into
view. She leaned forward to slide them through the
small cushion of foam that had collected on his belly,
brushing her nipples lightly over his slippery skin and
her face fell forward against his chest. Not wanting to
open her mouth in case she got foam in it, she moved
her chin caressingly over his flesh, pressing down
quite firmly into the twin muscular pads of his pecs.
He touched her arm, brushing off a stray patch of foam
and gently massaging it into her shoulder.
'MMMM, ' she breathed, 'feels nice.'
'I know,' he said just a little smugly. Then he glanced
around at the flooded lino. 'What did you put in that
thing, anyhow?'
'It's a secret,' she wrinkled her nose at him, then
laughed. 'Bubble bath, if you must know. Works great,
doesn't it?'
'Let's see,' he scooped some up and planted it on her
ass, smoothing it into the skin, kneading her flesh and
slapping lightly, awakening the memory of his earlier
blows and making her shiver. His fingers dipped into
the valley between her buttocks, and slid down until
they brushed tantalizingly against the lower folds of
her labia. She shifted her hips forwards and up, to
give him more room, and felt herself being spread
gently open. For an instant she was achingly aware of
his cock head just inches away from her own gaping sex,
then she was lowering herself onto it, engulfing him,
accepting him deep within her body. She seemed to feel
every ridge and vein on his shaft pass one at a time
through her lips, and she was dully aware of her
tightly gripping walls relaxing and opening to him, her
juices flowing down over his shaft to mingle with the
foam on his belly.
Then he was inside her completely, and she ground her
hips down against his, feeling her clit bumping up
against his pubic bone, and his fingers still gripping
her ass. Reaching up to pinch her nipples, knowing he
was watching her do it, she began to ride him, humping
her hips not up and down, but back and forth, so that
his shaft pressed back and forth against her inner
walls, even as a few scant centimeters were drawn out
and then slammed back inside. A wave of heat rose up
through her body and she looked down through heavy
lidded eyes to see his face contort in agony or
ecstasy. He reached for her breasts and she surrendered
them to him, covering one of his hands with her own,
but leaving the other to do as it wished as she reached
downwards to rub her clit in ecstatic circles whilst
increasing the range of motion of her hips, riding up
and down his shaft in long smooth strokes. and feeling
her orgasm approaching fast.
He caught her mood and began thrusting with his hips,
bucking upwards to meet her on the way down, his hands
pinching and twisting roughly on her nipples. With a
cry, she came, hurling herself down on him and kissing
him deeply as the tremors racked through her body. He
grabbed her hips and continued to pump his cock inside
her as wave after wave of pleasure flooded her senses.
His groans told her that he was also close and,
surprising him a little, she lifted herself suddenly
off his cock, and crouched between his highs, pressing
her tongue firmly against the underside of his shaft.
Wrapping her fingers around the upper half of it, she
began to stroke him with the same rhythm they had been
sharing. His eyes flew open and his hands clutched
helplessly at the air, his hips moving completely out
of control as she clearly felt the pulse of his orgasm
travel past the location of her tongue. His seed shot
out in four staccato bursts, landing on his chest, his
stomach and even, in one particularly impressive spurt,
on his forehead. He pulsed once more, with considerably
less force and a little sperm tricked down his shaft
onto her tongue. She rose up between his thighs and
straddled him, enjoying the slick feel of his skin
against her still tingling sex as she kissed him once
more.
He sat up looking slightly dazed and glanced around at
the mess on the floor.
'I know,' she said, 'we should clean up.'
'Uh, not just yet, hun' he murmured. 'We still have to
get ready to go out, remember?'
END
More erotic fiction... blah blah blah - you know all
this already, don't you?
Anyway, visit http:/www.slowhand.com/ It's really good.
And free. No, really, I mean it.
If you have enjoyed this story so far, please let me
know by emailing me at slowhand@dial.pipex.com , and
try to inspire me to write the next installment.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 30