Up For Review:
Beach Blonde Interlude - A Pregnancy Palace Episode (F-Mast, M-Voy, Cons)
I was laying on the narrow strip of sand at the base of the cliff. We referred to it as our beach, though it really wasn't, becoming accessible only when the tide was out, it was usable only for a few hours twice a day, and not at all if the sea was too choppy or the weather was stormy. I had made it my habit though, on those days I could, to take a blanket to the 'beach', those days that I could, two or three times a week for the privacy. I would either lay out and work on my tan, or read a book and simply relax.
I'd worked at the Pregnancy Palace for just under two years now and for the last month there had actually been no pregnant females in residence. Outside of the two hours I taught Elementary level English to the Orphanage children my time was basically my own.
I'd climbed down the narrow switchback trail as soon as the tide had allowed that morning, arriving before the beach was fully dried, and laid my blanket in the shade of a huge rock, knowing the sun would eventually invade even there. I was enjoying the quiet and my book regardless when I heard a soft splashing noise, back up beach, towards the cliff path. Expecting to find Michiko or Sachiko had come looking for me, I leaned forward, looking around the end of the rock and I saw her.
European or American, probably, pale blonde hair, svelte, fair skinned, and wrapped in a short, light robe. Ankle deep in the cool water of the bay her face turned upwards and eyes closed as she simply stood, soaking in the rays of the mid-morning sun. Opening her eyes I saw her look towards the trail she must also have climbed down and then scan the cliffs surrounding the small bay before releasing the ties of her robe and tossing it to the beach behind her. She was nude beneath. Her position providing me a perfect side view as she once again scanned the tops of the cliffs around the bay, I was really admiring the scenery she provided.
Having been on Okinawa for two years, a blonde, white woman was a novelty for me. Of course, there were the American military women, but it was a two hour drive to reach those areas of the island they normally frequented, and the odds of meeting one of them were slim, so this was a moment I was treasuring.
She began to move. I was surprised as her foot rose from the water, for she was barefoot. I always wore tennis shoes and brought a blanket to the beach because of it's composition. Formed mostly of broken and wave ground coral and sea shells, there was many a jagged sharp edge. She was moving basically in my direction and I leaned back again, against the cliff wall behind me, allowing her privacy except to be sure she didn't try swimming in the salty water of the bay. That time of day the undertows were vicious as the tides shifted.
From the corner of one eye I continued to monitor and admire her form as she moved, high slightly pouty breasts with reddish brown areole standing proud from her chest, narrow almost waspish waist and tear drop ass. Her equally blonde thatch of kinky hair was glistening here and there as the sun caught individual strands just right. Her long slender legs simply seemed to reach to forever and back as she moved. She had to be every inch as tall as my 180cm, another novelty in a country where most men average 165cm and the women are mostly 154 to 158cm. There were those times I felt almost a freak walking the streets among them and this was another reason I sometimes preferred my private time on this small beach.
As I watched her moving she stopped and carefully raised one foot from the water, crossing it over her knee and turning away slightly as she crouched and bent, balancing on one foot as she examined it. She had cut her foot and bent further as she examined it, bringing her rounded, slightly parted pussy lips into view. She wiped at the blood on her foot and brought her fingers to her mouth to taste it, doing this two or three times in the span of long seconds, seeming to suck and lick her fingers carefully to clean them completely. As I watched I noted something which seemed slightly odd to me, one breast was clearly in view and as she sucked the blood from her fingers, the nipple was clearly beginning to distend. With each taste, they got longer and firmer and looking at her vagina I thought I saw a slight parting beginning just below her bush, the slit itself seeming more moist to my eyes than it had been.
When she returned her foot to the water she seemed to savor the momentary burning sensation as the salty liquid entered the wound. Bending at the waist she reached into the water and came up with a double handful of bottom material which she firmly dragged down across her breasts. Three times she did this before rinsing her hands and bringing handfuls of water to her breasts, washing away the grim she'd caused there, small flashes of seeming ecstasy showing in her face as the salty water entered small cuts she'd caused there. It was then that I realized she was preparing to dive into the salty water for a swim.
"Ney! No!" I said sharply, trying to use a conversational if demanding tone. She jerked straight turning her face to me, hands moving as if to cover herself, then not - realizing, I think, that I'd already seen what there was to see. Standing I moved kind of 'kitty-corner' to where she stood, towards another large rock, she took a step backwards and away, back up the beach towards her robe, but stopped when I did. I had no wish to truly frighten her, but merely to warn her of her danger. I looked at her, noting the few hair fine bloody scratches she cause in her upper chest and breasts, in Japanese, and then in English I said, "You must not swim here, The tide is shifting and the undertow is very bad." She looked at me, simple puzzlement in her face.
She said something to me in a language I didn't recognize, Nordic or Swede maybe or possibly even Russian, I didn't know. I could have been Martian or Venusian for all I recognized it.
The rock I'd been moving towards had a large piece of branch lying across it, and was my original destination when I'd stood (I always believe a practical demonstration says more than words ever could). Holding up my left hand, one finger extended I waggled it for a moment and moved to the branch on the rock. She took another step backwards as I picked it up, but did not run. Moving into the water until it was slightly deeper than my ankles, I gently set the branch down showing her that it floated. As it floated before me I waved my hand flat, arcing it from one side of my body to the other, out towards the bay to indicate the surface of the water. Then I made a down and under motion to try and indicate an undertow. From the look on her face I hadn't gotten my point across so I reached for the floating branch. This worked about five times out of seven, and I sincerely hoped it would work today as I tossed the branch gently out about five feet into the water.
It entered the water like a spear, sinking about two-thirds of it's length below the surface and starting to bob back up when sudden it seemed to twitch, angled slightly and disappeared beneath the surface. It didn't come back up. When I looked back at her again she was looking wide-eyed at where the stick had disappeared backing out of the water as if something were going to grab her and drag her under (which wasn't far wrong if a good undertow got hold of you). She seemed to calm a bit though as I stood and moved casually in the shallows before walking out near her. Stopping as soon as I'd exited the water, not trying to draw nearer, I knelt and began drawing in in the beach with my finger. She moved closer to see as I drew a simple depiction of the beach and water with the shore sloping deeper and deeper below the surface. Then I drew some small arrows showing water moving to the beach near the surface and arcing around to follow the line of the slope back to the sea. I think she understood it.
Her eyes cleared as she looked from my drawing to the water and back again. I stood and she hastily took another short step back, but stopped again when I didn't try to approach closer. I made swimming motions with my arms, shaking my head at the same time and saying 'No' it seven or eight different languages, everyway I could think of having heard it from movies and television over the years. She nodded and smiled and I turned my back, returning to my blanket and my book, the only thing I could think to do since she was skittish and nervous yet. It was the only way I could think to let her know I wasn't interested in harming or attacking her.
She stood and watched for long moments before walking back up beach and retrieving her short robe, which she slid back on but didn't close or belt, letting it hang as she waded back ankle deep in the water before me retrieving more of the bottom material which, though I couldn't see, I now believed she was rubbing into her stomach and abdomen. A little more splashing and rinsing and she reached for more which she began rubbing into her right thigh and calf, glancing back past her shoulder as she did so. Since she obviously wanted me to watch, I set my book aside and paid strict attention.
Again when she rinsed, I saw a few thin scratches fill with blood as the water drained. Still bent over, she reached into the front of her robe and her motions seems to say she was tweaking her nipples as she stood bent over. Repeating the effort with her left leg, it was obvious when she caused a bit deeper cut there, as it filled with blood immediately, one hand immediately going to her crotch as the other gripped her now injured leg. To increase her effect, or her teasing, she turned until she was mostly facing me, her breasts and the hand at her labia clearly visible as she began to splash her leg with the salty water. The hand between her legs moving now and a somewhat glazed appearance entering her eyes as the stinging water entered her cuts. She began reaching into the water for more of it's muddy base, rubbing it viciously across her breasts and stomach once again, splashing herself after each handful, her face becoming slack jawed in appearance, her eyes completely closed and the hand between her legs moving faster and faster with each treatment.
Although I could not see, because of her position, I was convinced that at first her fingers had remained outside of her vagina, merely rubbing at and around things to stimulate herself. But now, I believed she was impaling herself with two or three fingers on each stroke. Her nipples now fully distended, and whether an effect of the cool, salty water or as a result of her excitation, the very tips of each appeared to have gone white. This continued for easily ten, maybe fifteen minutes, with most applications of the muddy grit causing new fresh scratches in her skin, though none more than minor hairline surface scratches. and none as severe as the one in her left thigh which yet dribbled blood down her leg and into the water around her ankles. Finally, though, she seemed to reach her goal as she lowered herself to her knees and arched her back giving me view of her hand frigging herself mercilessly. All four fingers were slamming into her hole with each powerful thrust, only the swell of the knuckles seemed to stop their forward advance on each plunging stroke. With each retraction, she savagely pressed and dragged her hand into and across the area of her clitoris.
As soon as her knees came to rest beneath her, the quaking began, her shoulders and breasts shaking back and forth as her hand continued it's wild plunging strokes. Her eyes rolled back into her head until only the whites showed and her mouth hung open as she threw her head back gulping for air, chest heaving with each labored breath. Then suddenly it all just stopped. The quivering and quaking of her body, the movements of her hand and even the rise and fall of her chest. Back arched more even than before, she leaned far backwards, her entire body rigid and locked, her now mostly wet robe falling back from her body and trailing in the water behind her. For a long minute she remained rigid, the only movements about her were an obvious quivering at the tip of her left nipple and a dripping of fluids from back of her knuckles and down her thighs where her fingers still invaded her vagina.
Finally, though, it ended as she released a long shuddering breath gulping a new one. Slowly she leaned forward, sliding her fingers free and coming to rest on her free hand as she brought her invading fingers before her face, staring at them as her eyes rolled back forward and cleared. She started to bring her fingers to her mouth, then stopped and looked past them to where I sat watching on my blanket against the cliff face. Smiling lewdly she stood and walked over to me, hair sweat matted about her head, breasts jiggling ever so slightly with each swaying step, I thought she looked like an angel as she approached.
When she arrived on the edge of my blanket she stood with feet slightly spread and held her fingers before my mouth. Leaning slightly forward, I took her fingers into my mouth and began sucking them clean, finding the taste very salty and slightly bitter, probably from the sea water I thought. Knowing that she seemed to enjoy certain amounts of pain, I reached across with my left hand and grabbed one boob roughly, pulling down on it as she stood above me. She went to her knees beside me, knees spreading wider as she came down on them, eyes glazing slightly once again as she never took them from mine own. I placed my right hand between her legs and easily slid three fingers into her still sopping pussy as she removed her fingers from my mouth and leaned forward to lock her lips to mine.
A few swirling plunges of my fingers. A short passionate kiss and battling of tongues. A momentary thrilling pressure of mashed tits and swollen nipples as she pressed her chest to mine, then she placed both hands on my shoulders and pushed herself away. Dropping her right hand to my lap she lightly grasped and traced the outline of my rigid cock through my loose shorts, making a light moaning sound deep in her throat as she did so. With her left hand she began torturing her own breast as she leaned forward and sucked for a long moment at mine before suddenly pushing herself away again and coming to her feet with a laugh. Smiling, she closed and belted her soaked robe and I watched as it molded itself to her curves, then, blowing me a two fingered kiss, she calmly walked away and began climbing the path back up the face of the cliff.
Slowly sucking her juices from my fingers, these not so salty or bitter and actually slightly sweet tasting, I watched her leave, following her with my eyes until she disappeared around the third switchback.
I tried to sit calmly after and get back into my book, but found it impossible, finally gathering my blanket and book I started the long climb back up the trail to the Orphanage and Pregnancy Palace above. I hoped Michiko or Sachiko were available when I arrived and that they had plenty of time ...
I hoped it was Michiko.
Interlude ends.