and the cute way his knob reddened and swelled up and coated over with a thin film of moisture when she was really turning him on. And that turned her on. Oh, God, did it ever! She was turned on now, and she didn’t have to remember or pretend or fantasize. Her ass was making little hollows in the wet sand under her, and not even the constant inflow of cool waves rushing over the intertwined couple could chill or dampen the fires in her pussy. The only thing that could quench Caron’s lust was the injection of Paul’s seven-inch rod, and she was getting a full dose of it right now. He sank deeper and she began to moan, writhing under him.
She gasped as he touched a responsive place inside her. “Oh, God, do it again—in-out, in-out, in-out, fuck me fast, fuck me hard! It makes me jelly inside! Do it darling, do it again, do it again, oh, do it do it do it do it.”
He did it. His cock sawed into her juicing cunt and she bucked in delight at each fast, sure stroke. Not even the Atlantic Ocean itself was as wet as the inside of Caron’s cunt right now, and the waves seemed to sizzle and steam as they broke and foamed over Caron and Paul’s hot, mingled bodies. She lifted one leg high into the air, kicking like a prima ballerina, and then she brought that leg down and tied it around Paul’s thighs in a knot. He had a good body, a man’s body, a body to be tied to. A hair under six feet, which made him not quite three inches taller than Caron. No flab, no puffy white flesh—she fucked him on the beach so often he was nearly as brown as she was. He worked out regularly, and not just with Caron. He was smooth, a patch of hair across his broad chest, thickest around his nipples, where, she loved to nuzzle and burrow, tickling her lips on his curly hairs. Thicker around his sopping mat of pubic hair rubbing against her body now, each time he plunged deep and held on, allowing her to feel the full weight and majesty of his prick inside her. The taste of sea and sand filled her head and she loved it, too. When he was officially dead, maybe they’d set up housekeeping here on the island. Their own private playground. Sheila would be going home to Connecticut after the ceremony; she’d only come down to lend moral support, and she was a darling for thinking about Caron, but sometimes she did get in the way. Just a little. And never so much that she’d mention it or even hint at it. She saw her sister so little as it was. But with Sheila gone home, Indian Head Island just might become Orgy Island, an orgy for two players.
Oh, God, the way he filled her! Not just her pussy, her entire being! She only wanted to be with him, to be fucking him and loving him and drowning him in the melted butter of her orgasmic soul. He was all she thought of.
He fucked faster, till her cunt was afire with lust, and she was clutching him with arms, legs, pussy muscles, pulling him deep into the craving core of her body. The tip of his cock brushed repeatedly at the mouth of her womb, and she felt the uteral opening expand, as if it wished to suck him totally home.
A giant wave came rolling in, almost drowning them in water as they were already near drowned in lust. Paul sputtered, and his cock strokes fell off. Caron was sputtering too, her nose full of water. “Let’s move out of harm’s way,” he suggested, pointing to the dry sand just beyond them. Caron nodded.
His cock slid out of her greasy snatch, and immediately she felt empty and abandoned. But not for long! She hustled out of the water, crawling on hands and knees up the beach, spitting out salt water as she moved. And Paul was behind her, his hands busy on her ass. He got one of his fingers between her legs, started massaging the itchy slice of her cooze. She didn’t feel so empty, not when his finger wiggled into her hole and started to explore her interior. She made a happy, whimpering cry, and fell onto her belly, legs spraddled.
Paul got his hand under her stomach, lifted ha so that her ass jutted up into the air, and then he came in from behind, his prong straight, hard, and horny! He stuffed it into Caron and began to fuck the living shit out of her. She pound her knees and her hard hot titties into the sand and her ass wiggled from side to side as she absorbed the hot fevered thrustings of his tool.
“God Christ!” she moaned, “don’t stop!! Give it to me!! Give it all to meeeeee!” Ships at sea could have picked up that hot wailing cry but she didn’t give a good Goddamn. She was being fucked and, baby, that was where it was at!
The angle from which he entered her was absolutely divinely perfect. The underside of his dick, the thick hard vein of his urethra, was able to slide like sandpaper in the vicinity of her throbbing clitoris. Caron’s head began to swim.
Sheila, she thought. Why can’t she find herself a man like Paul? God, she’s going to be thirty in a few more years! It seems so Goddamned fucking unfair that I should have everything and she has nothing except her paint brushes and her canvas. Maybe, she thought, maybe Paul knows someone who’d be right for my little sister.
The thought was intriguing, and it sent little twitches of interest running through Caron. Had Sheila ever been with a man? But hadn’t everyone been screwed at least once? Sheila couldn’t be a virgin. Not today, not in 1977, not at twenty-six. But she’d never even been serious about a man. Had she sublimated all her natural longings, all her womanly passions to paints and canvases?
Sheila seemed happy and contented enough, but how could she be, living along, spending all her time alone? Didn’t she ever feel the need? Didn’t she even get horny? The pangs of her own horny desire were flooding Caron and she wasn’t sure if she even cared. I can’t live Sheila’s life, she thought. I’m having a hell of a time living my own.
“Yes! Yes!!!!” she shrieked, feeling the first come spasms ripple through her cunt. The quickening of her heartbeat, the heaviness of breath, the muscular contractions deep in her snatch—there was nothing like it. She wondered now if she could ever live without that feeling. But she’d never experienced a sexual orgasm till she was twenty-three years old, a full year after her husband had walked out on her.
The bloody hell with her husband! In a couple more weeks she’d be done with him forever! It would be as if he’d never existed in the first place. She’d be a free woman, free to live her own life as she pleased, and that life would definitely include Paul Drake, oh, yes, God, definitelyyyyyyyyyy…
His cock plunged into her snapping twat and she writhed madly with each stroke he gave her. Caron’s clit was throbbing and raw, and her juices were already fluid inside her. He squished as he penetrated, squished in her cummy goo and she could feel the vibrations throughout her body, rocking her, bouncing her, sending her higher and higher. God bless the child, she thought, God bless the child that’s got her own.
The best comes were always like this. A fast yummy one, hitting like a summer thunderstorm, cracks of lightning, thunder rolling in her head, her pussy going absolutely mad, full of cock and turning cartwheels. And then the second one hit, right on the heels of the first, before Caron had had time to catch her breath.
It blasted up through her belly and she moaned onto the hot sand, grinding her chin onto the beach until she could taste it in her mouth. Her tits were afire on her chest, hotter even than the sunburned sand, and the little grains of it felt like a zillion tiny fingers pawing her stiff nipples, rasping them like sandpaper.
“Fuck me, darling, fuck me,” she wailed, and Paul seemed only too happy to do just that. His cock slammed into, her with all the speed and ferocity she craved. He was big and thick now, filled with the lust that roared inside his body and his cock hungered for the sweetness of Caron’s twat. He stuffed her as deeply as he could, and the head of his cock rammed countless times against the tip of her womb. She writhed each time he flailed her there, but she loved it, as she loved everything he did to her, and he fucked her all the harder, lifting his head and shoulders, bracing his knees against the sand. He grabbed the cheeks of her ass and started to feed it in and out with gathering force and power.
Her churning cunt ate it up and his head grew giddy. He couldn’t keep this up forever. His nuts ached—they felt as big as watermelons and he knew that he had a lot of jism to spill. Maybe one fuck wouldn’t clear his tubes of all the cum lust had brewed inside him. Her snatch tightened on him, sucking like a wet toothless mouth, gumming his cock in greedy hot swallows. He closed his eyes and thrust hard, then began to fill her with his hot spurting seed. She was having her third orgasm and it had been better than this for both of them, but who cared? This was great and he was giving her as good as she gave him. Paul tensed, stabbed deep, and he could feel the mouth of her uterus opening upto drink his cum.
His balls emptied, and her pussy convulsed around him one final lurching time. Softness crept upon him, but not real softness. He was still inside Caron’s sticky hole, and he was half-hard, pressed against her, loins to butt, as he panted in the aftermath of release. He stoked her hot sweaty ass, and he groaned a little. His balls still felt full, and his prick wouldn’t go down. What could you expect? He hadn’t fucked Caron since night before last. It would be nice when her sister went home and they had the place to themselves.
Beneath him, Caron’s cunt contracted again, a little tightening of muscles that wiggled all along his prick, and he knew she was still hot for more. He was stiffening again inside her and he had to fuck her at least once more.
“Let’s go up to the house,” he suggested hoarsely. “Before you get sand where it won’t do either of us any good.”
