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Subject: the Elaboration 3 (m, f, f)
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The following story contains material not meant for minors. If you are under
eighteen, then scram! Get the hell out of here..... Otherwise......
enjoy, I hope....
(part three)
Seven: Tara
I didn’t see the girls for three days. It was horrid. I resorted to
fishing out my telescope again, watching for them. I walked up and down the
beach hoping to see them somewhere. I even returned to Constance for some
reason. While I was there, I ran into Tara lying completely naked, her eyes
closed. I walked up to her and said, "Hello, Tara, how are you doing?"
She sat up and smiled at me. "Hello, Randall."
I decided to spend a couple of hours with her to see if I couldn’t get some
hints about the girls. I was pleased when Tara beat me to the punch and
asked me to join her.
She was lovely, no question about that. Totally at ease with herself, Tara
gave off the most wonderfully positive energy to be had. Unlike many women
in our culture, Tara eschewed shaving: the fine blonde hairs proliferated
under her arms and down her legs. Her pubic hair was profuse, inching down
the crevices between thigh and abdomen.
I stripped and lay down beside her. In no time, my erection arrived. Now,
unlike in the recent past, I felt a tinge of guilt, probably because I was
thinking of Crystal and Kelly and Tara. But the tension of the circumstance
was wonderfully painful, so I did nothing to hide my obvious excitement.
Tara and I made some small talk about Jasper Bay, about retirement (she had
been a successful investor as well), about divorce (she had taken her ex to
the cleaners), and about nude beaches. We lay side by side, both of us on
our backs, both of us wearing dark shades. My erection made no move to
dissipate; in fact, it grew harder with the intensity of my thoughts and the
circumstance.
When Tara pivoted on her elbow to turn over on her back, she chose to turn
toward rather than away form me. As her eyes discovered my penis, she said
in a low whisper, "My, my, what do we have here."
I moved the glasses down my nose and looked at Tara. She was leaning on her
left elbow, her heavy breasts resting against her arm, the nipples impossibly
large, her deep brown areolae crinkled with excitement. I smiled at her and
said, "Surprise, surprise!" Then I lay back and closed my eyes, expecting
her to roll over on her stomach.
"Sometimes surprises don’t come in small packages," she said.
Her next move startled me enough to make my skin jump. "Relax," she said,
taking my cock firmly in her hand.
"Tara," I protested lightly.
"Just relax," she said and began to stroke slowly. As dangerous and lawless
as such actions are, Tara’s hand job was relatively safe at Constance Beach,
which for the most part remained private.
Her hand felt so good, I didn’t protest any further. Her grip wasn’t
entirely different than Geena’s had been, but in place of Geena’s slow and
persistent ministrations was an urgency and a hunger on Tara’s part. I had
grown quite good at the riding the wave, though, and when I felt the orgasm
begin to peak, I leveled it out and rode it. But when I leveled out the
second wave, Tara said simply, "I want you to come. It’s okay." That was
enough to bring me over the wave. Because I hadn’t climaxed for days, the
amount of sperm was plentiful, and the force of the orgasm sent a couple
streams past my right shoulder.
I had grown used to Geena’s predilection for tasting come, so when Tara
rolled over onto her stomach and didn’t clean the sperm off my body, I was
mildly surprised. I was just relaxed enough not to mind, though, so I let it
go. An offering to the sun.
I turned my head to see Tara’s face looking in my direction, though I
couldn’t see if her eyes were open. She was already in motion, too: with
her right arm beneath her body, she manipulated her clitoris, smiling toward
me. I had never seen this before and was delighted by the image of it,
trying to imagine what the passersby must have seen behind her. It didn’t
take long before her body tensed in orgasm. She let out one long groan and
came rapidly. When she was finished, she took her hand out from under her,
lowered her shades down the bridge of her nose and smiled at me.
I don’t know why, exactly, but I leaned over and kissed her on the lips.
She let her tongue into my mouth and ran the tip over my teeth, my gums.
"We’ll have to do that again sometime in private," she said.
I agreed, of course.
The heat of the sun, the relaxed muscles took their turn on me then, and I
dosed off to sleep for awhile. When I awoke, I was alone, no sign of Tara
anywhere. I could tell by the position of the sun that not much time had
passed. Walking home, I felt much better than I had earlier in the day,
though now I wondered what kind of new relationship had just begun.
Eight: the Elaboration III
As I ambled up the beach I caught a glimpse of Crystal and Kelly in our
usual spot. They didn’t see me at first, but when they did, they both waved
at me. As I neared them, I was wonderfully surprised to see two new
developments: Crystal was completely naked, and Kelly was topless. Neither
of them appeared nervous as I approached.
As nonchalantly as possible, I walked up and sat down in the sand beside
them. "Where have you two been?" I asked.
Crystal raised up on her elbows and said, "We had to go out of town for
awhile. Did you miss us?"
"I was a little worried," I said. Then after a pause, I added, "Especially
after our last conversation."
Kelly raised up at that and said, "No biggie. Care to join us?"
I laughed and said, "Sure," lying back as I did so. The sun was high now,
and the heat was intense. Sixish, I thought.
Kelly said, "No, I mean, care to join us?"
I looked over and saw Kelly making a gesture that took in Crystal’s nude
form, took in her bare breasts, then took in the general area of my
midsection.
I sat up when I realized she meant for me to strip. I was caught completely
off guard.
"Look, Kelly," I said, amazed at my reluctance. "This is dangerous
territory . . . ."
Kelly cut me off and said, "Only as dangerous as you want it to be. Come
on. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your body, as you said once." She was
smiling now.
Crystal added with a laugh, "Get out of them shorts, mister. It’s only
fair!"
I hesitated for a moment, looking at Crystal, then at Kelly, then back at
Crystal. I knew this was inevitable, this was what I had wanted. But I also
knew that we were traipsing into tough waters here. There was no longer a
question about how my body responded to public nudity, even in a private
scenario, and I had to weigh whether I wanted to go down that path. But
looking at these beautiful women, noticing the looks of expectation on their
faces, I knew I couldn’t turn back now.
I smiled, said, "Okay," and stripped off my shorts, tossing them in the sand
beside me. Then, the child in me rising up, I said, "Happy now?"
Crystal broke into a laugh and said, "You bet we are!"
Kelly simply stared at my crotch.
I was still relaxed from my earlier orgasm, so my cock remained soft
momentarily. Perhaps I was glad of that. But Kelly’s scrutiny soon brought
that familiar charge. As I lay back trying not to feel the eyes on me,
nonetheless, my cock grew tumescent rather quickly. It was only a matter of
time . . . .
The two of them lay back finally, and we fell into a familiar silence,
though this one crackled with new tension, new energy, different comfort. I
did my best to keep my eyes closed beneath my shades, but occasionally I felt
that pressure of being watched. I glanced secretly over then and saw one or
the other stealing peaks at my crotch. The effect was purely physical:
within ten minutes, I had an erection.
After thirty or so intense minutes of silence and heat, Crystal sat up
violently and announced, "I need a drink. Do you have any beers, Randall?"
In a moment of pure insight, I sat up, fished the keys out of my pocket and
tossed them to Crystal. "There’s a twelve pack in the fridge," I said and
lay back down.
Crystal bounded away toward the house, leaving Kelly and me alone. What was
tension before turned into something resembling sexual panic. I was gripped
with the urge to kiss Kelly full on the mouth, to smother her breasts with
kisses, to bite her nipples, her lips, her stomach. But I was paralyzed. My
erection by now was throbbing, painful. I did my best not to move.
Kelly sat up and for a moment didn’t say anything, didn’t move. Finally I
heard her say, "God."
I sat up and took off my shades, looking over at her. She was staring at my
cock, which in its turn was pulsing several inches away from my abdomen.
"That’s the biggest cock I’ve ever seen," she said, barely audible.
She looked over at my face abstractly, then returned her gaze to penis.
Painful, sweet, painful. Then she said, "Can I touch it?"
I was about to answer her when we both heard Crystal bounding toward us,
jogging loudly and giggling.
"Randall’s been watching us!" she said loudly on her return. "He’s got a
telescope up there, and he’s been watching us! Isn’t that great!"
My face reddened and I wanted to explain, but Crystal was on fire with this
new information.
"You big kink, you!" she said, dancing into our circle. She dropped the
cooler in the sand and danced around in front of us, completely uninhibited
now. "I bet you’ve been jacking off, haven’t you?"
Before I could answer her or offer an explanation, she said, "I love it! I
love it!"
I looked at Kelly pleadingly. Her mouth was open in an expression of
betrayal and surprise. I looked back at Crystal, who was standing in front
of me now, pinching a nipple in each hand, pulling the weight of her breasts
upward. "You want to fuck us, don’t you? I knew it! I told Kelly that, but
she didn’t believe me. She said you were too kind. I knew it! I just knew
it!"
The whole scene crashed around me when Kelly got up, gathered her blanket
and her top and walked away violently up the beach. Crystal was stunned.
She looked at me, searching for answers of some kind, then offered me an
expression of apology before gathering up her things and taking off in a trot
after her cousin.
Nine: Paranoia
To say the incidents depressed me wouldn’t be exactly correct, but I did
suffer a good deal of sadness over Kelly’s reaction to Crystal misleading
news. I felt as though trying to explain myself at this point would be
pointless and decided not to pursue the issue at all. Regardless, I was
dashed into a feeling of anxiety over what had happened. I did not want
Kelly to view me as a pervert, though I suppose in some sexual dictionaries,
I fit the details to a T. Simply put, there was no way of convincing her
that I had been more than sincere in my proclivities since I had met the two.
There was nothing to do but wait now.
That night I had the most intense dream about Kelly. I had not had a wet
dream since I was a teen, so quite naturally I was startled when my climax
awakened me in the middle of the night. My body was covered with sweat, and
the contents of my dream rushed to the forefront of my mind immediately after
waking.
Inside the fog of the night, Kelly had insisted that I make love to her
breasts, that I take it slowly so she could see what I liked, how I got off.
I had never dreamed anything like it, but clearly the notion was now firmly
planted in my mind. We used baby oil to lubricate her chest, and the process
had lasted a good fifteen minutes. Our eyes never left the gazing as we
moved and moved. I came in buckets. Afterwards, Kelly had brought a droplet
to her lips for a brief taste. Only a brief taste. "Spicy," she had said as
I was waking.
The next day, I placed the telescope back in its case. This time, I placed
it in the closet and vowed never to use it again. I felt simply horrible.
Still, I spent the remainder of the day with the image of my dream on my
mind, a reality which kept me all but completely rigid for hours. I went
about my daily rituals: doing my exercises and meditations on the beach
nude, jogging a little. The whole day I wondered what was going through
Kelly’s mind, what was going through Crystal’s mind. Had they talked? What
did they think of me now?
After supper, I had fallen into a slight stupor on the couch when I was
startled back to reality by the doorbell. I shook off what bleary feelings I
could and answered the door. There in the doorway, Tara stood holding a
bottle of wine and a smile. She wore a trench coat and stepped inside
without invitation. She walked directly to the front room, put the bottle on
the coffee table, and let the coat fall to the floor. She stood mostly nude
in front of the fireplace and said, "Let’s get on with what we started
yesterday."
For a woman of fifty, Tara was unbelievably energetic in bed – or on the
floor before the fireplace, to be exact. She liked sex rough, and she
preferred longevity. Although Geena had been capable of coming three to four
times on occasion, I had never slept with a woman capable of multiple
orgasms: Tara had upward of ten that night.
Her first one came rapidly. I stood in the middle of the floor after she
had stripped me out of my sweats. She crouched in front of me, placed my
rigid cock against her neck, her breasts and her lips alternately, and rubbed
her vagina against my shin. The sensations were amazing and nearly made me
come, but she would have none of that. She pressed her index finger into my
urethra just below my scrotum and stemmed the tide as quickly as it came up.
Next, she lay on the floor, legs akimbo, and masturbated, asking me to do
the same – and to come on her chest. I was in a daze and followed orders.
By the time I came, she had had three more orgasms, each seemingly more
intense than the last. After I was finished, and after she cleaned my come
off her bare skin with the tissues I provided, I said, "You’re amazing!
Simply amazing!" She only smiled, grabbed my cock and led me to the
bedroom, where our gyrations continued for another hour.
We traded positions several times, and each of us came again – she a couple
times more than me. When I attempted to be gentle, she chided me, saying, "I
want you to fuck me with that marvelous cock." I did. She liked it hard and
fast and deep. Apparently, I fit the bill nicely, but by then I was moving
on remote control – a mechanical bull, an engine, a fleshy accessory to her
needs. Not that I minded, necessarily: I suppose it’s every man’s dream to
be used as a sexual object, a dynamo of desire. I was more than happy to
help out, though I admit that I was amazed at my staying power.
By the time our lovemaking – our fucking – was over, I had had four orgasms,
matching my personal record of seventeen years prior, when Cindey and I first
met. As we lay in bed afterwards, Cindey was drunk, more from the fucking
than the wine, and she seemed to drift in the sheets beside me.
"You’re quite the marvel," I said to her.
"As are you," she said. "I haven’t come that many times in a long time."
But as nice at it was, as thoroughly erotic and tasty, it was still nothing
more than a one night affair, something to tide us over until our real
desires could be met. By the time she left, I knew well enough not to ask
when we could get together again. I knew we had played out whatever dramas
we had in store for one another. I suppose I was pleased, in a way, but when
the door closed behind her, I felt uncontrollably sad and empty. And
exhausted. And still paranoid. Thoughts of Kelly flooded my dreams, images
of Crystal hovering on the margins.
I slept until noon the next day.
(continued)
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