index


Message-ID: <51941asstr$1126559402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} An Inspiring Guest {Varkel} (MF Mf MFM Mm anal oral) [1/3]
Lines: 1535
Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2005 17:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

An Inspiring Guest
a Story of Three Days at the Beach

by Varkel
Summer, 2005



Part 1 of 3

"Good morning, honey," said Rhoda over her coffee cup from a seat behind
the kitchen table.  Her unmade-up morning face exhibited wrinkles at the
corners of the eyes and a hint of future red veins on nose and cheeks.
Dark brown hair was cut in short curls, waiting irregularly above her 
ears for the morning brush.  She wore shorts and a halter that exposed 
shoulders and chest reddened by yesterday's sun but as yet unburned.

At the stove Emily finished pouring her own coffee, whirled and took her
own seat across the table.  She was barefoot, wearing a dressing gown 
over a well-filled one-piece bathing suit.  Being younger than Rhoda, 
her face was smoother with no suggestion of veins.  Her hair was the 
same dark brown but long.  Normally pinned up, at this early hour 
strands of it straggled down her back and fell beside her face.  
Consanguinity was evident in the oval faces: the two women were sisters
only three years apart.

After taking a cautious sip of the steaming beverage, she said, "Rhoda,
you're the only woman left who calls me 'honey.'"

The other nodded gravely.  "Now that Mom has passed on.  I guess I've 
called you that since we were little, probably because _she_ did.  Do 
you mind?"

Emily shrugged, sipping again.

Rhoda asked, "Did you look out on the balcony?"

"At the ocean.  It's so dark."

"Because the sun is low yet.  But it's going to be another beautiful 
day."

"The kids will like it.  Are Cheryl and her new boyfriend up yet?"

"You and I and Jack are the only --  What new boyfriend?"

Emily grinned, tossing hair out of her face.  "You shouldn't go to bed 
so early.  Jack's up?"

"Gone surf fishing.  Cheryl arrived last night, did she, with a 
_boyfriend_?"

Emily chuckled.  "And this time she's robbing the cradle."

"Young?"

"I'll say!  Looks early twenty-ish.  Hmm.  How old is she now?"

"Thirty-one, ten years younger than I.  How could you forget that?"

Emily shrugged one shoulder.  "Well, with seven years between us she and
I were never anything like as close as you and I with only three.  
Besides, she's too fast for me."

Rhoda nodded sourly.  "She's fast, all right.  Where'd she meet this 
one?  What's his name?"

"Craig something.  Umm, Craig Smith.  I gather she met him in a 
restaurant.  On the way down here."

Rhoda's eyes widened dramatically.  "'On the way down here!'  My god!"

"She came right out and admitted it in front of him.  Bragged of it, I'd
say."

Rhoda set down her coffee cup and leaned forward.  "You mean he's in the
house now?"

"I guess so.  They went upstairs together."

"To her bedroom of course."

"Oh, yes.  She couldn't keep her hands off him."

"My god, Emily, she brought a stranger into our house!"

The younger nodded.  "Yes, she did, without asking, too.  Into our 
rented beach cottage, at least.  But don't get excited.  He's mannerly 
and well-spoken with short blond hair, not the type for a serial killer.
And maybe not such a stranger.  She implied they'd got it on already in
the car."

"Hmpf!  You don't learn much about a man from his cock."

"I think that's all Cheryl wants to know."

"Well, if he's young enough ..."

"Maybe he hasn't learned bad habits," Emily completed.  "You know our 
little sister.  She probably made him think he'd died and gone to 
heaven.  Too bad Tom hasn't found one like that."

"How old is Tom?"

"Nineteen.  You sent him a card."

Rhoda grimaced.  "I think that was Jack's secretary.  Isn't he going to
school?"

"Not yet.  He's not in any hurry.  I'm a little worried about him."

"Cut off his allowance and tell him to get a job or pick a school."

"That's not it.  I don't think he's ever had a date."

"Never had a ...  Oh, I see.  Well, you have friends with daughters."

"So what?  I should get one of them to ask _him_?"

Rhoda blinked.  "Don't they do that nowadays?  I'm sure I've heard 
Sandra on the phone telling boys to pick her up."

"Maybe so.  But if it got out that his _mother_ arranged a date for him
..."

Rhoda made a face.  "I guess.  Maybe Clement can do something."

"Ha!  Maybe he could, if he'd stay home from Italy longer than a week at
the time."

"When does that job end?"

"Another year, he says, when the new plant is producing."

Rhoda chuckled lightly.  "You know, that makes me glad my husband is 
only a stock broker."

"Don't be too glad.  Fifty-ish men don't have to go to Italy to find 
fuck toys."

"Emily!"  Rhoda snorted.  "Don't you remember Mom washing your mouth out
with soap for saying that word?"

"Mom's gone.  And I'm getting a little impatient with being nice."

"Uh-oh!"

Both women laughed.  They sat, finishing their coffee, and listened to 
the surf crash on the strand below them.

Emily sighed.  "It's my turn to cook."

"No, it isn't.  If Cheryl's here it's her turn."

"She can't fry eggs worth a damn."

"I'll help her if anybody wants them.  One of us needs to roust her out
of bed."

Emily grinned, getting to her feet and tossing back her hair.  "I'll do
it.  I want a glimpse of Craig's cock."

"You _don't_!"

Halfway to the stairs, Emily called over her shoulder, "He's got to have
_something_ convincing!"

Smiling and shaking her head, Rhoda rose, freshened her cup and resumed
her seat against the wall.

Emily soon returned, rolling her eyes and giggling.

Rhoda giggled in sympathy.  "What happened?"

Emily flung herself into her seat, leaned over the table and declared in
a loud whisper, "I almost came to get you!"

"Huh?  What stopped you?"

"A board creaked and Cheryl woke up."

"So?"

"So she pulled the sheet over him."

Rhoda grimaced.  "Come on, Emily, what did you see?"

"Something convincing."  The younger sister held up well separated 
forefingers.

Rhoda blinked at the fingers.  "That long!"

"Like a pink cucumber" -- Emily chortled -- "if you could imagine one 
circumcised."

Rhoda shook her head impatiently.  "You mean you didn't knock?"

"The door was open.  They were both naked, must have kicked the sheets 
down.  He was on his back with his thing sticking straight up."

"Asleep?"

"Yes."

Rhoda nodded.  "That's what Jack calls a 'piss hard-on.'"  She grimaced.
"Unless Cheryl had her hands on it."

"She was asleep too, on her side with her back turned.  I started around
the bed to give her a shake and a floor board creaked.  She'll be down 
when she gets out of the bathroom."

Rhoda grinned slightly.  "Pulled the sheet over him, did she?"

"Like canvas over a tent pole."

"How long did you say it was?"

Emily sniffed.  "I didn't have a ruler in my pocket.  I'd bet ten inches
-- and thick.  I doubt your fingers would meet around it."

"Good heavens, honey, that's a monster!"

"Well, _I_ never saw the like."

"Me neither.  Not in real life."

The two women contemplated each other speculatively until footsteps on 
the stairs announced the youngest sister's arrival.  Shoulder-length 
black hair framed her heart-shaped face.  A crimson bikini adorned a 
lush and shapely body browned evenly by tanning booths.

"Good morning!" she called, smiling brightly.  "You really want _me_ to
cook?"

"Mom taught you how," said Emily over her shoulder.  "You ought to 
practice.  Maybe you could keep a husband."

"A husband!  Been there and done that.  Okay, but I've got to get coffee
first."

"Plenty on the stove."

Cheryl took down two cups and saucers.  As she filled them the reason 
became apparent.  A young man appeared, yawning, at the bottom of the 
stairs.  His short hair was blond.  Sunlight slanting through the 
eastern windows limned the morning fuzz on his chin that belied a round
face of boyhood.  Above middle height, he wore trousers alone over his 
lean frame.  The muscular chest was smooth and hairless.  Noticing the 
women at the table, his eyes twinkled and he hastily covered his gaping
mouth.

Turning more towards her sisters, Cheryl said, "This is my friend, Craig
Smith.  Craig, these are my big sisters: Rhoda Camden and Emily 
Williamson."

"Pleased to meet you, ladies."  His voice was surprisingly deep and 
resonant.

"Hello," Rhoda acknowledged.  Emily said, "We met last night."

"Yes."  He grinned.  "Cheryl's name is Fenner.  I guess that means you 
two ladies are married."

"We are," Emily admitted.  "But Fenner isn't her maiden name either."

He cocked an eyebrow.  "And Smith isn't mine."

Rhoda blinked.  "What do you mean?"

"He's making a joke," said Emily, turning her chair and tossing her hair
back.  "Good heavens, Craig, you have the most _piercing_ blue eyes!"

He dipped his head in a bow.  "The better to see you with.  That coffee
smells good."

When all four were sipping coffee in seats at the dinette, Rhoda said 
abruptly, "You don't have a car, Craig?"

"But I do!"  He grinned confidently.  "My car is still parked at that 
restaurant in Benson.  When Cheryl and I discovered we had exactly the 
same amount of time to be together -- not to speak of identical 
interests -- I agreed to ride with her.  She'll drop me off on her way 
home."

Rhoda blinked.  "But she means to stay two weeks!"

He nodded and regarded Cheryl with raised eyebrows.  "I understand 
that's not a problem."

"It isn't!" declared the black-haired sister.  Her chin rose 
fractionally.  "Craig is _my_ guest.  He'll stay with me.  I'll cover 
the extra food."

Rhoda sighed.  "Well, of course, if that's how you want it."  She forced
a smile.  "Welcome to the Campbell family reunion, Craig."

"Campbell is the mysterious maiden name?"

"Yes.  We rent this cottage together every summer, so far for six years.
We're all here: three sisters, two kids and my husband.  Emily's husband
is in Europe on business, unfortunately."

"They're all asleep?"

"Except Jack.  He's gone surf fishing.  Do you fish, Craig?"

"I've done it."  He grinned.  "It's a slow game."

"You like faster games?"

"Oh yes."

"What do you do for a living, Craig?"

He chuckled uncomfortably.  "Actually I'm a school teacher."

"A what?"  Mouths fell open on both Rhoda and Emily.  "No kidding?" 
asked the latter.

"It's a fact."

"Where do you teach?"

"In Benson.  But a small town is so ..."  He shook his head.  "In two 
weeks I'm interviewing in the city."

"Well, well, a school teacher!"  Emily winked at Cheryl.  "You felt you
needed tutoring, eh?  What subjects do you teach, Craig: phys-ed?"

"Generic middle school courses -- math, English, hygiene, you name it."

"'Hygiene,'" Emily repeated.  "Do you teach 'em about sex?"

He laughed slightly.  "Sure."

"Don't you have to compete with TV?"

"I use the personal touch."

Rhoda blinked.  "Isn't that illegal?"

They all laughed.  After a moment she joined in.

Craig stood up.  "I haven't really had a chance to admire the ocean this
morning.  Will you excuse me, ladies?"

Cheryl stood also and pulled him against her for a brief kiss.  "Don't 
go too far.  Breakfast'll be ready in fifteen minutes.  How about eggs 
scrambled in ham and cheese?"

"Sounds wonderful.  I shall return!"  The storm door slammed after him 
as he ran down the long open staircase to the sand.

Cheryl studied her sisters.  "What do you think?"

"Hot," was Emily's opinion.

Rhoda sighed.  "Aren't you proceeding rather precipitously, Cheryl?"

The youngest took a deep breath.  "I guess it looks that way.  I've 
never met anyone so ... so ..."

"Young?" Emily interjected.

Cheryl shrugged one shoulder.  "He's 28, not _that_ young.  But he's so
_perfect_!"

"With a ten-incher," Rhoda suggested dryly.

Cheryl's tan flashed white teeth.  "Like I said: perfect!"


* * *


According to Rhoda, "Cooking means the whole nine yards."  Consequently
she and Emily lounged at the kitchen table while Cheryl put away last 
night's dishwasher load, then scraped and inserted the new one.  Jack, 
Craig and the teenagers were outside somewhere.

From her customary seat against the wall Rhoda called over the scraping
rattle, "Your new boyfriend looks like a college kid."

"That's because he's very blonde and has a youthful face.  He'll look 
young when he's fifty.  But I can assure you that he's very much an 
adult."

"He's 28 with no hair on his chest?" said Emily, now sitting at the end
of the table sideways to the dishwasher.

"He's got hair.  It's so pale it's hard to see."

"Ha!  Easier to see it lower down."

Cheryl glared over her shoulder.  "Easier to see _what_?"

"His pubic hair."

"Huh!  I know what you were goggling at."  The glare became a smug grin.
"Made you clamp your thighs, didn't it!"

"Clamp my thighs, indeed!  Well, just for a moment.  God, what a wang!"

The three of them giggled like school girls.

Rhoda asked hesitantly, "Cheryl, how does ... one like that, ah, 
_feel_?"

The youngest stared but finally grinned.  "It's awfully thick.  Didn't 
Emily tell you?"

"She didn't say how it feels."

"Lovely.  It just feels lovely."

Rhoda sighed.  "I've never felt anything like that.  Jack's is thin as a
carrot."

"Jack's got the only one you know, Rhoda," said Emily.  "At least I had
a couple of boy friends before I married Clement."

"Hah!" Cheryl snorted.  "I've had three guys during the past year alone.
I must have had three dozen since I was twelve, and I hope to have a 
couple dozen more before I get married again -- if ever."

"What a brag!" sneered Emily.

Cheryl cocked her head.  "Want me to name them?"

"It may be the truth but it's still bragging."

"Huh!  Why shouldn't a girl brag about it?  The men sure do!"

"They do?"

Cheryl frowned.  "No, I take that back.  Boys do.  I haven't seen much 
sign of it in men."

"How could you tell?"

"If they told, their friends would hit on me.  I don't see that.  Grown
men tend to be exclusive."

Rhoda mused, "Since you were twelve, you said.  I didn't know you 
started that young.  When you were twelve, I was 22 and only had a few 
dates.  I hadn't even met Jack yet."

"Only a few?  Why is that, Rhoda.  You weren't a bad looker.  Still 
aren't, for that matter!"

"'Not a bad looker.'   Thanks, I think."

"I mean you were pretty enough at 22.  I remember.  You were working in
the town library."

"I was 23 when I met Jack there.  He came in to research a company that
made condoms."  She giggled.  "It was so embarrassing!"

"That's how you met?  You never told us."

"I said it was embarrassing."  Rhoda's sun-reddened face turned darker.
"But it was funny."  She giggled again.  "Would you believe I helped him 
put one on?"

Both sisters goggled.  "You _what_?"

"He'd never done it before.  We studied the illustrations and figured it
out."

Emily sniffed derisively.  "God, you were naive!"

"Well, yes, of cour--"

"I mean, that was just a line, you ninny!  I suppose you helped him test
it too."

"It seemed a reasonable next step.  I bled on the carpet in the main 
office.  Good thing it was maroon."

Both sisters stared in fascination.  Emily said, "Good god, Rhoda!  The
same _day_?"

The eldest shrugged.  "It was like scientific research."

"Oh, yeah.  Sure!"

"I helped him take it off afterwards.  It was _full_!  He asked me to 
marry him."

"Right then, did he?"

"With a come-dripping condom in my hand."

"And you said yes."

"Seemed like a good idea to me.  He smelled good and was wearing a clean
suit.  Well, his pants were down.  You know what I mean."

Emily regarded her askance.  "Nobody's that naive, Rhoda.  You're 
putting us on."

A smile spread slowly on the eldest's face.  "With Cheryl's multitude 
and your several, maybe I want to brag a little too."

Her sisters laughed appreciatively.

Cheryl asked, "I suppose you plan to get your Sandra a job in the 
library too.  How old is she now, 15?"

"Almost 16."

"You know, I'd fucked six different guys by the time I was her age.  I'm
glad I began fucking early, because I love it and never can get enough."

Rhoda winced at the forbidden word.

Emily tossed back her hair.  "We always knew you were a slut, Cheryl.  
At least you were discreet and well-behaved.  You looked so proper in 
public that no one guessed.  I'm a bit jealous."

"No need for that.  If you weren't so inhibited, cheating on Clement 
would be a snap with him away on business most of the time."

"He's been in Naples for the past three weeks and won't get a weekend 
until next month."

"If I were you I'd at least buy me a collection of dildoes."

"Huh!  If you were me you'd be downtown at the bars every night.  In 
fact I do have a vibrator."  She sniffed.  "Clement bought it for me 
when he took this job."

"I have one of those too," Rhoda said, "even though Jack is always 
around."

Cheryl started the dishwasher and sagged into a seat at the table.  
Reaching behind her, she unhooked the upper half of her bikini and laid
it on the table.  Full breasts jiggled and nipples crinkled.

"Cheryl!" protested Rhoda.  "What if the kids come in?"

"I knew it.  This strap is twisted.  It's too tight."  Cheryl rearranged
the cloth, held it over her breasts and turned her back.  "Hook it, 
Emily, and make sure it's right."  In a moment it was fixed.

"That's better.  Thanks."  Cheryl turned back and rested her elbows on 
the tabletop.

"You have such dark nipples!" Emily remarked.

"They tan too.  Vibrators!"  Cheryl smiled graciously.  "I can fix that.
You two are free to use Craig, if you like.  He's eager to fuck anyone 
who'll let him."

Rhoda blinked.  "How do you know?"

Emily sneered, "Don't tell us he fucked a waitress on the table!"

"No, but if you'd heard our conversation!  What we talked about is why I
... picked him up, I guess you'd have to say.  I sucked him off soon as
we got in the car.  He fucked me twice on the way down and again after 
we got in bed here.  He's a real player!  That's how I know he's eager."

"My god!" exclaimed Emily, eyes enlarged.  "One man has that much 
stamina?"

"Like I said: he's perfect."

"I could never ..." Emily began but hesitated, licking her lips.

"Never what?" asked Cheryl.

"Run around on Clement."

"Couldn't you?  How do you guess he's passing the time with all those 
hot Italian girls?  I hear they love Americans."

"They ... do?"

Rhoda frowned at her youngest sister.  "All this sex talk!  You 
mentioned Sandra.   We've had a problem with her recently."

"A sex problem?"

"Exactly.  A few months ago she let a boy go all the way with her."

"How's that a problem?  She's nicely filled out and believe me, fifteen
is old enough to enjoy it."

"She didn't find it pleasurable, she says.  But that one time ... 
knocked her up."

Emily gasped.

"Sure doesn't show it," Cheryl mused.  "When is she due?"

"I took her to a clinic after she told me.  There'll be no baby."

"You should put her on the pill, Rhoda, just in case she gets curious 
again."

"I've done that."  The eldest sighed.  "Now she knows it won't hurt the
next time."

"She probably knows more than that.  What's her hairbrush look like?"

"Her hairbrush?"

"I mean the handle."

"The handle?  You think she ... uses it ..."

"Like a cock.  Works pretty good, even better if you turn the bristles 
right."

Emily sniffed while Rhoda sighed again.

"I'm worried about Tom," Emily said offhand.

"Oh, yeah?"  Cheryl grinned.  "Has he knocked somebody up?"

"In some ways it might be better if he had.  He's 19 and still a virgin.
I'm afraid he'll turn queer."

"He's just shy," Rhoda said, patting her sister's hand.  "Jack was a 
slow starter too."

Emily sniffed.  "That was 20 years ago.  They aren't slow any more -- 
all except Tom!"

"He's a nice looking young guy," Cheryl said.  "Maybe I could help him 
out."

"You wouldn't!" Emily declared.

Cheryl grinned and leaned back in her chair.  "Hey, it's almost nine 
o'clock.  The Strip'll soon be open.  I've got to take Craig and let him
buy some swim trunks.  Which store do you think sells the extra large 
cup size?"

Emily chuckled wryly.  "Ask the shop girls to give him a hand -- or 
something."

"It'd have to be _both_ hands."

"Whatever.  Let me give you some money.  I need the strongest sun block
lotion they've got.  And so does Craig with that fair skin."

Rhoda frowned.  "He came to the beach without any trunks?"

Cheryl grinned smugly.  "That's my fault.  He says himself he wasn't 
going anywhere till he met me."


* * *


The morning sun was well clear of the horizon.  Standing on the strand 
at the foot of the cottage stairs, Craig bared his pale chest to it.  
The sky was a perfect blue except for wispy cirrus clouds and the 
knife-edged contrails of two invisibly high aircraft almost directly 
overhead.  This section of beachfront, bordering on a national seashore
park, was much less developed than elsewhere.  He could see distant 
cottages to the south, but so far today their occupants had not yet 
strayed so far up the strand.  Sand and surf were empty of people.  A 
pair of fishing trawlers almost at the horizon line were the only other
human evidence.

While looking up, a touch of white caught his gaze.  The girl he had met
briefly last night was leaning over the rail of the higher balcony, 
wearing a long-sleeved white shirt.  Her pretty, mid-teen face smiled as
she caught his eye.

"Hi!" she called.

"Good morning!" he shouted back over the crashing surf.  "I thought 
you'd be on the beach."

Her smile widened mischievously.  "Nobody to show off to."

"You could show off to me.  Come on down."

"Not yet."

The cawing of gulls diving on a beached fish drowned her reply.  Quickly
he ran up the two outside staircases and joined her on the top balcony.

"Don't you like salt water?" he asked, not even breathing heavily.

The smile had faded.  "It's not that.  I don't like the sun.  I'll go in
the water this evening."

The shirt was open over a blue bikini top filled by conical breasts.  
Shapely upper hips and legs were unprotected.  She had bound her long 
brown hair into a ponytail.  Naturally pink lips pouted in the fresh, 
oval face.  

"You have lovely, pale skin, Sandra.  I agree it would be a shame to tan
it."

"Do you think so?"

She leaned closer until their elbows touched.

He grinned.  "I'd bet you're an all-over cutie."

Her chin rose.  "I'm not a little girl."

"No, no.  What are you, about five-foot-three?"

"Five-four and 120 pounds."

"Definitely not a little girl!  Oh, you thought _cute_ meant little?  
Let me express myself more accurately.  You are lovely -- in every 
feature.  That's what I meant to say."

Her whole expression brightened.  "Th-thank you, Mr. ... ah ..."

"Just Craig.  And you're Sandra, Emily's daughter."

"Sandra, _Rhoda's_ daughter."

"Well, they're both lookers and you take after both."

She nodded.  "Everyone says they look alike -- though they really don't
when you get to know them well."

"That's true even of identical twins.  Your mother is the older, isn't 
she?"

"Forty-one.  She was 26 when she had me."

"Do you have siblings?"

"No, I'm an only child."

"Then ... was that your boyfriend I met last night?"

"Tom?  Heavens, no!  He's my cousin: Aunt Emily's son."

"Slim young guy.  He's what, about 20?"

"You're close: he's 19."

"About right, eh?"

She turned to study his face.  After a pause she said, "I know what you
mean."

"Do you!"

"But if I stood next to him like this" -- her elbow nudged his -- "he'd
draw back and leave."

"Would he?  I can't imagine why."

"Can't you?"

"It's an honor to feel your elbow.  As a start."  He slipped an arm 
around her back and palmed the opposite hip.  "And the rest of you, 
which is so delightfully soft."

"Someone will see us!" she exclaimed, stepping away and reentering her 
room without closing the door.

He followed her to the doorway.  She sprawled on the unmade bed, gazing
at him with an expectant smile.

"May I join you?" he asked.

After she nodded he entered the room and sat on the edge of her bed.

"One of the grownups might come upstairs," she said.

"You don't want anyone to see us together?"

"No."

He placed a hand on her near knee.

"But you still want to be alone with me?"

When she nodded, still smiling, he ran the hand up her soft thigh to the
edge of her bikini.

"May I kiss you?" he asked.

She moved aside to make room for him on the bed.  When he stretched 
beside her, she fell into his arms, kissing eagerly, tongue probing.  
They sucked each other's tongue in turn.  Her bikini top was easy to 
dislodge.  He palmed a firm breast of respectable size.  She caught her
breath then inhaled deeply.

"I've never been with a grown man before."

"You certainly must have a boy friend."

"I did, once.  He was too clumsy."

"Boys usually are."

They kissed again.  Instead of protesting, when he cupped her groin, she
spread her legs farther.  Through the thin bikini front he caught her 
clitoris gently between finger and thumb.  With lips pressed to hers he
diddled her at length, feeling the lump swell.  She tossed in agitation,
finally relaxing after groaning through a climactic spasm.

"No one has ever done that to me," she murmured.

"Not even your boyfriend?"

"Like I said, he was clumsy.  He didn't know anything."

"Was he your age?"

"A little younger."

He kissed the juncture of her neck and shoulder then tongued an ear.

"I could give you that pleasure with my mouth."

"I've heard of that!"

"Do you want me to?"

"Oh, yes!"

His hands reached for her bikini bottoms.

From outside a woman's voice called loudly over the surf, "Craig, where
are you?"

Sandra gritted her teeth.  "It's Cheryl!"

He immediately rose from the bed and returned to the deck.  Behind him 
Sandra closed the sliding door.


* * *


Tom, wearing a long-tailed man's dress shirt handed down from his 
father, crouched in the sand over an unusual sand castle.  It was a 
surprisingly well-shaped and full size bas-relief of a female torso with
wide-spread legs and unrealistically high-thrusting breasts.  Lovingly 
he dribbled a mixture of water and sand upon the smooth groin.  In front
of him the surf crashed and the froth raced inward, almost reaching his
sculpture.  Soon the rising tide would erase it.

A female voice behind him asked brightly, "Are you dripping come on her
or trying to make pubic hair?"

He whirled around, gasping, face darkening, one foot destroying the 
figure even before he recognized Sandra.

"Awww!" she moaned, eyes wide and hands on hips.  "Why'd you do that?"
But she immediately ruined the effect.  The hand that covered her mouth
failed to suppress her giggle.

He looked beyond her.  They were alone, well up-beach from the cottage.
"_Damn_ you, Sandra!"

She backed away, giggle subsiding to a grin.  "Is that the only way you
can get a girl?"

His foot had continued its sweep until only a jumble of sand remained.
"At least she wouldn't sneak up on me!"

Sandra sniffed.  "At least it was a _girl_!"

He blinked.  "What do you mean?  I wouldn't bother with a _dog_."   At 
last he seemed to notice her fully.  "Where the hell are you going?"

She was wearing her white long-sleeve shirt, now buttoned, a calf-length
skirt, long cotton knee-length stockings and a wide-brimmed straw hat 
pinned above her ponytail.  The stockings, however, were not protected 
by shoes.

She answered condescendingly, "For a walk on the beach.  Where else?"

He goggled.  "Aren't you too hot in all that?"

"Not in this good sea breeze."  She withdrew a tube from her pocket.  
"Aunt Emily wants me to rub some of this on your face and legs."

"What is it?"

"Sun block."  She peered at him closely.  "You need it, too."

"How about you?"

"I already did my face."  She grinned.  "You can rub some on my tummy if
you want."

"Out here?  Somebody might spy us."

"Huh!  Do you see anybody looking?"

"Might have a telescope.  Let's go in the dunes."

She cocked her head to study him, smiling slowly.  "You want to go in 
the dunes with me?"

"Yeah, to put on sun block."

"Come on, then."

After a few strides he caught up with her.  "I thought they used up all
the tanning lotion yesterday."

"Aunt Cheryl came back from the Strip and dropped off a lot more."

"'Dropped off?'"

"Then she and her new boyfriend drove off somewhere.  What do you think
of him, Tom?"

He shrugged.  "Average sort of guy.  For a blond."

"Blond," she repeated and giggled.  "Any kid of his would stand out in 
this bunch."

"I didn't see any kids!"

"You wouldn't.  Yet."

"Huh?"

She laughed derisively.  "I don't believe you, Tom."

"What did I say?"

She shook her head.  "Nothing."

After a few steps he said, "I dig the long sleeves.  This sun is _hot_.
But why the skirt?"

"Instead of jeans?  I wore them yesterday.  They're what's too hot.  A 
skirt lets air get under it.  And other things."

"You mean sand?"

"Yeah.  Sand."

"Why would you want _sand_?"

"Du-uh! ...  This looks steep.  You think we can climb it?"

"I already did yesterday.  Give me your hand."

He tugged her up the slope faster than the sand could cascade from under
their feet.

At the top she regarded him with more favor.  "Wow, Tom, you're strong!"

He shrugged but flashed a secret grin.  "Come on along this ridge.  I 
noticed a good hollow a bit further in."

Hand still in his, she followed him, dodging among the anchoring stands
of sea oats, once tripping over a short tuft.  She would have fallen but
for his support.

He faced her when she was steady again.  "Sandra, I guess you're going 
to tell them what I was doing."

"You mean about your open-legged sand girl?"

He winced, drawing his shoulders in, but nodded.

She sniffed.  "If I didn't tell them what you were doing three years 
ago, I wouldn't worry about your sand girl."

He blinked.  "Three _years_ ago?"

"Yeah, three.  I was only twelve."

"What the heck was I doing three years ago?"

She grinned.  "Jerking off over the balcony rail."

His chin sagged.  "J-jerk ..."

"That was the first come I ever saw.  I followed you around after that."

"Good Christ, Sandra!"

"We had two weeks left.  I saw you jerk off in every room except your 
bedroom."

Tom's face had paled under its red tinge.  He sagged back and turned 
partly sideways.  "Sandra, I, ah ..."

"Don't get excited.  I never told anybody.  What were you doing, 
christening every room?"

He blushed and bit his lip.

"And of course you'd already creamed your bedroom.  I thought it was so
cool, Tom.  I almost wished I was a boy."

His fists clenched.  "If you were I'd beat the shit out of you.  I hate
spying!"

She giggled.  "It wasn't spying; it was admiring.  Your come is pretty,
Tom: like pearl juice would be if pearls made juice."

"Good Christ!"

"You shouldn't be embarrassed that I saw you, Tom.  I'm a girl, you 
know.  Girls and boys are supposed to see each other."

He stared into her eyes.  "I get it.  You're laughing at me."

"No, Tom."  She sighed and gestured.  "Go on.  We need this sun block."

They had proceeded only a short distance before Tom, still leading, 
halted and cocked his head.  "You hear that?"

She listened intently.  "A hungry kitten?"

"Maybe.  Come on.  Let's find it."

As they advanced along the dune ridge, the sound, a series of 
intermittent moans, grew louder.  "That's no cat!" declared Tom.

Sandra mused, "Maybe a leaf whining in the wind?  But ..."

"But what?"

"It _could_ be a woman."

"If so she must be in trouble!"

He dashed forward.  Sandra hurried to keep up.  Reaching an edge, he put
out an arm to stop her and stood rigidly, saying nothing.

"What is it?" she asked in an automatic whisper, pushing up against him.
When he failed to answer, she peered around his arm.

In the hollow below them a nude couple lay on a blanket in passionate 
embrace.  The woman underneath was heavily tanned, the man above 
blinding white in the direct sun.  Their hips ground together in frenzy.
The woman was the source of the sounds, now understood as shrill 
feminine groans emitted in time to the rhythm of their hips.  The man's
face was hidden behind the woman's but his blond hair was evident.  
Despite the distorted face, they recognized the woman as Cheryl.

Tom released pent-up breath.  "Well, now we know where they went."

Sandra giggled.  "Sure hope he used the sun block!"

They watched for a minute as the frenzy slowly increased.  Tom seemed to
choke.

Sandra asked, "What's the matter?"

"Did you, ah, did you ever do that?"

She paused and said after a moment, "I'm on the pill."

"The ... pill?"  He stared around at her.  "You mean, like Aunt Cheryl 
isn't?  How do you know?"

"That's not what I mean.  And Aunt Cheryl wouldn't be that dumb."

"Well, who would?"

"I was once."

"You ...  What do you mean?"

She didn't answer.  They watched in fascination as Cheryl's moans became
screams while Craig, obviously straining, held himself at maximum 
thrust.  The woman shuddered violently, her torso continuing to twist 
even after the man had rocked back on his heels and stood up.

Sandra gasped.

"Good Chri--" Tom began but stifled himself.  He imprisoned Sandra's 
arms and pushed her back along the ridge out of sight.

The girl's eyes were round as marbles.  "Wow!  Did you _see_ him!"

"Yeah, I saw him.  Come on.  I'm going back to the cottage."

"The _cottage_!  What about our sun block?"

He shrugged, pushing past her.  "Let the women put it on us."

She hesitated but finally rushed to catch up with him.  "What's the 
matter, Tom?"

"Nothing."

"How big do you think Craig's dick is?"

"I don't know."

"Long as his foot?"

"A _foot_ long?  No way!"

"_His_ foot long.  Almost.  It's _huge_, Tom!  Lots bigger than yours 
was."

"Mine's grown."

"Long as your foot?"

He broke into a run.  Her stocking-covered feet seemed to slip on the 
sand more than his bare feet.  She fell increasingly behind.

"What did you leave in the cottage?" she called after him but received 
no answer.

At the end of the dune she slid down onto the strand.  The tide was just
about high, too early to look for sand dollars.  "Oh, well," she 
muttered, turning toward the distant cottage, "it's about lunch time 
anyway."


* * *


Craig awoke suddenly, sensing he was not alone.  Sandra stood at the 
foot of his bed, now wearing only her two-piece bikini, brown hair 
gathered back into her customary ponytail.

"Hi!" he said, smiling at her and checking his wristwatch: 3:30 in the 
afternoon.

Her eyes departed his boxers and she smiled back.

He said with a smirk, "I hope you aren't disappointed."

"Well ..."  She looked away.

"You are, aren't you!  We ought to fix that.  Uh, I take it everybody's back
from the Strip."

"Except my folks.  They drove off again, wouldn't say where.  Well, to 
'look at the sound,' if you believe that.  When they come back, they're
supposed to bring pizza for supper."

"Why shouldn't I believe they're looking at the sound?"

"Because Mama hates fishing."

"Maybe there's a picturesque fishing village or something.  I guess the
rest are downstairs?"

"Aunt Cheryl looked in on you, said you were asleep."  The girl grinned.
"She allowed you had a hard night."

"Moderately."

"Anyway she left again in her own car, going to the Internet Cafe."

"I know about that.  She has to pass on her company's advertising 
budget.  That'll hold her an hour or two."

"Aunt Emily stayed, took a chaise out to sunbathe.  She thinks it's safe
after three o'clock.  Tom's with her, building sandcastles."

"Sandcastles?"

"You might like them."

"I doubt it.  Castles aren't my favorite shape."

"What _is_ your favorite shape?"

"You're sporting a good example of it, my dear."

"Oh!"  Her cheeks reddened.  "Th-thank you."

"So the cottage is empty?"

"Just you and me."

"Good."  He locked eyes with her.  "I want to taste you.  I've been 
thinking of it ever since we were interrupted this morning."

She blinked and took a breath.  "Okay."

"But first ..."  He sprang out of bed.  "It was a two beer lunch, you 
know."

He stepped out of the boxers, left them lying on the floor and passed 
naked around the corner to the closer bathroom.  While releasing a thick
stream into the toilet, he glanced at the mirror and saw the girl in the
doorway behind him.

"How old are you, Sandra: 16?"

"I will be next month."

He shook his head.  "I guess I'll never learn."

"Learn what?"

"To leave delicious morsels like you alone."

"You have another 15-year-old girlfriend?"

"No.  You're it, I hope.  Did you want to watch?"

"May I?"

"Certainly."

She entered the room with alacrity and bent her head beside him.  "It's
so easy for men!"

"You think so?"  He shook off the last few drops.

She asked, "Is men's pee always so white?"

"If they drink a lot of beer.  Yours would be too."

"I don't drink beer."

"Most women prefer wine."

"Mama does: Chardonnay.  It's ... so little."

"Less than a glass?"

She took a breath.  "I mean your thing."

"You think so?  You may be in for a surprise."  He turned back toward 
the hall.

Her eyebrows rose.  "Aren't you going to wipe it?"

He grinned and said over his shoulder, "The shaking-off takes care of 
that."

She followed the nude man back to his room, where he flopped on the bed
and drew the pillows under his head to prop it up.  "Slip out of that 
bikini," he ordered with a grin.

"Shouldn't I close the door?"

"Something I've noticed: when anyone opens a storm door on this place, 
you can feel a draft and my window curtains wiggle -- if the room door 
isn't closed."

"I get you."

Her undressing took only a moment.  Unhesitantly she lowered herself 
into his arms.  His hands sought her avidly.

"God, you have such lovely, fresh tits!"

He suckled them in turn, working the nipples with his tongue.

"Oh, wow!" she exclaimed.  "I'm all tingly!"

"That's how it works.  But catch what happens next!"

He kissed down her belly until his mouth encountered hair.  His tongue 
dipped beside the clitoral hood and curled under it, lifting gently but
swiftly.  The girl gasped and stiffened.

He raised his head.  "How does that compare?"

"Oh, wow!  Don't stop!"

She squirmed and groaned in growing arousal as he licked all over her 
vulva.  He teased her, now avoiding the clitoris until her cries begged
for release.  Suction on the hood brought her to climax in a few 
seconds.

After cuddling her until she calmed down, he rolled back to his pillowed
headrest and extended his legs under her upraised knees.

She felt his flesh jiggling and rose up in evident alarm.  "What are you
doing?"

"I need to whack off, darling.  You've got me too excited to wait for 
Cheryl."

"Did you get excited after our last time together?"

"Yes, of course.  But Cheryl was available and she sucked me off on the
way to town."

"It's hardly a town!  I've never done that."

"I presume you mean you've never sucked a cock."

"Ugh."

"And you don't want to try it."

"I didn't say that."

She rose further and reached across to enfold his member.

"It's awfully thick," she said.

"I said you'd be surprised."

"I wasn't surprised.  I've seen it before."

"You saw it hard?  Where?"

"When you finished on Aunt Cheryl in the dunes."

"What?  You were there?"

"Tom is so funny and shy.  We went in the dunes to rub on sun block.  
_Only_ to rub on sun block!  We heard Aunt Cheryl and ... saw you."

He chuckled.  "Cheryl is noisy.  I _thought_ I heard somebody talking!
Hope this big boy didn't scare you."

"That's not the word."  She sighed.  "It's so ... so ..."

"What _is_ the word?"

"I don't know.  It makes me feel ... fluttery."  Suddenly she scooted 
her hips back, leaned far forward and mouthed the swollen glans.

He chuckled approvingly.  "When you make a decision, you don't hesitate,
do you?"

"Unh-uh," she answered, mouth tightening with suction.  After a moment 
her face rose to regard him.  "Shaking doesn't get it all."

"Doesn't it?"

"I can taste it."

"Is it so bad?"

"Not so bad."

"You may not believe this, but I've known a few girls to actually like 
pee."

She nodded.  "I do believe it."

Again her head went down.

After a bit he asked, "How much cock can you take?"

Her mouth sank further on the shaft -- with predictable consequences.  
She jerked away, gagged and spewed vomit.  Her eyes widened on his.  
"Oh!  I'm so sorry!"

He laughed and swung out of bed.  "At least it only hit me."  In the
bathroom he threw water upon his stained torso, scrubbed with his hands
and dried himself on a bath towel.  She stood in the door, biting her 
lip.

He slipped an arm around her.  "Don't be upset.  You're not the first to
strangle on this big cock.  Deep-throating me is a real challenge."

He led her back to his bed.  Preparing to resume the same pose, she 
paused and stared at him wide-eyed.  "You're soft again!"

"Well, dear, washing puke off your chest is not what you call sexy.  But
you can fix this problem in a jiffy."

She blinked and smiled.  "I'll bet I can get it all in now too."

She would have nearly won that wager initially, but within the expected
"jiffy" her efforts were again limited to the outer three inches.  He 
raised his hands to stroke first her temples then her smooth shoulders.

"Sweetie, do you feel that thread right under the tip?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's the best spot.  Lick it hard."

His hands on her shoulder added to the bobbing of her head.  After a 
while he smiled as her downstrokes enclosed more than half the long 
shaft.  "You're a very determined girl, aren't you, Sandra?"

"Hunfh?

"You don't let a little mishap slow you down.  I like that a lot."

He felt her lips tighten in a smile.  He groaned.  "Take it easy now, or
you'll get a lot more taste than you want."

Her face rose.  She licked saliva off her lips and asked, "You about to
come?"

"Getting close."

"Will it stay hard?  Jeffrey's wouldn't."

"I can guess who Jeffrey was.  Did you have some further use for a hard
cock?"

For a moment her eyes fell then rose to meet his almost fearfully.  "It
would hurt if you put it into me."

"I know, darling, though it hurts only the first time.  I don't think 
you're ready for that yet."

"You don't?  Why not?"

He shrugged.  "No offense, but I think you ought to grow just a little 
more."

"You mean you think I'm a virgin?"

"Aren't you?"

"I went all the way already, Craig."

"Really?"

"Once.  With Jeffrey."

"Ah.  How was it?"

"That stupid, clumsy boy hurt me a lot.  I told Mom and she took me to a
clinic and put me on pills."

"Birth control?"

"Yes.  But I didn't like the hurt.  I'm afraid to do it again."

"I won't hurt you, darling.  I'll be very gentle."

"Your thing is awfully long and fat."

"I promise not to hurt you, sweetheart.  First I'll lick on you some 
more."

"I'd like that."

He pulled her up onto his chest.  Soon her juices were flowing again.  
She climaxed with a wild spasm.  He rolled her onto her back and quickly
topped her, penetrating her tightness as his encircling arms held her 
hips firmly.  She gasped and cried out but answered his thrusts with 
rolling hips.

"Does it hurt?"

"Oh, no!  Oh, do go faster!"

Banging her to another climax brought on his own, delivered while 
grunting against her ear.  When he could, he rose off her and grinned.
"Delicious!"

"Oh, wow!" she exclaimed.  "I never felt anything so good in my life.  I
want to do this a lot more."

"Try it with your cousin Tom.  He's closer to your own age."

"You're not so old."

"Perhaps, but I can't spend a lot of time with you this week.  I have 
other responsibilities."

"Aunt Cheryl!"

"Yes, and maybe her sisters as well."

"Mom!"

"Maybe.  Would you mind?"

"I don't know.  Isn't she kind of ... old and yucky?"

"Certainly not yucky and not that old either."

The girl threw a leg over him, nudging his softening penis, and rose on
an elbow to study his face.  "You've done a lot of girls, haven't you, 
Craig?"

He smiled.  "Do you really want to hear."

"Yes."

He shrugged.  "Remember, you asked.  You are my hundred and 
seventy-sixth female.  You're among the youngest."

"A hundred and seventy-six!  You keep score?"

"Not 'score.'  What I keep is a count just for my pleasure.  I'm like a
miser counting his gold."

She asked in wonder, "How did you get so many, Craig?"

He chuckled and flipped his organ.  "The women seem to love this thing."

"I knew it.  It's getting soft."

"If you want it hard again, sweetie, you know what to do."

"And taste _me_?  Yuck!"

"Go ahead, just for that taste.  You might be glad if you get over that
squeamishness."

With a sigh she leaned down and mouthed him again.  Her lips and tongue
lingered.  Soon the member had re-erected.

Her head came up.  "Do me again."

He rolled atop her as a missionary this time.  After a few strokes that
caused her to shiver, he said deliberately, "I hope to put this cock 
into your mother before midnight."

She thought it over without stopping her hip roll.  "Can I say, 'Damn 
you?'"

He chuckled.  "I suppose you could warn Rhoda off."

"Sure!  'Mom, Craig's going to fuck you.'"  She adopted scornful 
mimicry.  "'Oh yeah?  Just how do you know that, Sandra?'"

He laughed.  "So what will you do to stop me?"

"Stop you?  I know better than that.  I just want my share.  What you're
doing right now is against the law.  If you don't fuck me at least every
day, I'll tell."

"Betrayed for _not_ breaking the law!"

"You got it, buster!"

"It's a deal.  If nothing else I can meet you on the beach at three 
a.m."

"Oh, wow!  Come on: fuck me hard before somebody comes in.  Somebody 
besides you, that is."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+