Beach Bitch to Beach Bunny

"Oohh," she said.

Felt like 'oohh!' to me, too. "Like that?"

"Getting better."

I thrust again and got another approving 'groan-moan' from her. I waited, giving her opportunity for greater appreciation.

"Why you stopping?"

"Just being gentlemanly."

"I'd rather you didn't—stop, I mean."

So we'd reached that point, had we? I gave her another thrust, a bit more demanding this time. Her response said I'd done the right thing.

"Please?" she said. I didn't wait before giving her the next thrust.

"What's your name, anyway?"

"Matt Jacobson."

"You live around here?" She said between sighs. None of this small talk required stopping what she and I now did as a team.

"Sort of. Twenty miles inland. French Town."

"Nice place?"

I gave her an extra thrust just to keep her mind on her purpose.

"Nice enough. Pretty small, but you can't have small and big both."

"I feel like I got both small and big right now."

"Like it?"

She said nothing, just nodded her head slowly. I took that as an invitation to ramp up my part of the act.

"Okay , now ... say, what the hell is your name, anyway?"

"Marge. Margaret."

"Last name? Shouldn't I know the last name that goes with this wonderful, silky smooth ass?"

"Swanson," she said. "You really like my ass?"

"Fine."

"Then why do you keep stopping?"

"I'm not. I'm just asking if you're ready for the whole nine yards."

"Guess I'm ready. We gotta finish this and the rest so we get back to my car in time, right?"

My response was to commence a regular cadence that shook the table with every lunge. Her response to my response was to shove herself toward me so we hit in the middle and each stroke jammed me firmly into her. I managed to keep my groans and gasps to myself—pretty much—but poor Marge was soon moaning, groaning, gasping, and screaming harsh whispers. I think she interpreted my lack of audible response as indicating her lack of success as the object of my passion, and because of this, tried even harder to please.

Of course, no guy is going to survive this sort of activity unaffected. My balls quickly rose to the occasion, shot her ass full of the facts of life, and I soon found myself sliding down the far slope of Climax Mountain. At this point, I allowed myself a few, soft, audible moans and groans.

"Please, Matt? More?"

"Sorry. That's all I got for now."

"No more?" There was a hint of pitiful, frustrated desire in her voice.

My answer was to slip myself in and out of her until my erection gave up and self-exited her scene. She raised herself off the table, turned around, looked at me a second, then threw her arms around me. Was this appreciation of the 'asshole' who she'd just discovered did wonderful things for her asshole?

She looked slowly up at me, then smiled.

"What's next? Gotta keep the tide in mind, right?"

"Now, you do your oral part of the bargain." She already had her hand squeezing my limp dick.

"Now? Right after it's been in my ass?"

"Get a wet cloth and give it a bath. The wash cloths are in the drawer under the camper bed, and the sink's right there by the door." I stepped to one side and sat on one of the folding chairs, which gave me great position for watching her naked body do as I instructed. With the wet rag in hand she started in; damn, that water was cold! But I didn't flinch. Jonnie Boy had nothing left with which to flinch!

"Sorry," she said, holding the limp me up for the final wipe. "Maybe I should have warmed the water first."

"Warm it up with your mouth. That's what works best."

No quibble. This girl had figured the situation out and now made the most of it. She came down on me in such a way she was able to twist around and look at my face. Ever see a smile with a penis in the middle of it? Well, I did—for the next several hours.

Once, a few years earlier while making love with a different girl, I made a quick count and decided there were twenty-six legitimate position variations with which a man could get his dick into a woman's pussy. Now, I'll admit it was a quick count and I might have missed one or two, but that list served Marge and me well that day. By sheer coincidence, I had a copy with me.

1.Her standing, bent over forward, touching her toes

2.Her standing, bent over forward, lying on table, him standing behind

3.Her bent over forward on table/bed, his chest lying on her back

4.Back to face, both standing

5.Back to face walk around/dance

6.Face to face, both standing

7.Face to face walk around/dance

8.Face to face, her lean back @ waist

9.Face to face, her on edge of table/bed, her lean-back, him standing

10.Face to Face, him standing, her lying back on edge of table/bed, knees spread

11.Face to Face, him standing, her lying back on a table/bed edge, her legs/knees over shoulders

12.Good old missionary, lying together

13.Good old missionary, him on his knees

14.Good old missionary, him lying left side-saddle

15.Good old missionary, him lying right side-saddle

16.Good old doggie style, straight on

17.Good old doggie style, over the left side

18.Good old doggie style, over the right side

19.Cowgirl, lean back

20.Cowgirl, upright

21.Reverse cowgirl, upright

22.Reverse cow girl, lying back on his chest

23.Cowgirl, side-saddle, left

24.Cowgirl, side-saddle, right

25.On bed, one of the girl's legs pointing in the air (there must be some artistic name for this)

26. Face to face, carrying her around, standing with her legs wrapped around his waist.

Each time Marge sucked me up to adequate stiffness, we started again on the list wherever we'd left off at my previous climax. We didn't bother taking note of her climaxes. After the first half dozen or so, we didn't even slow down for hers. I told her just to keep working on me and let hers go as they came, otherwise we'd run out of time before high tide.

No, I'm no superman. I didn't climax for each position in the list, at least not every time! Once she got me hard again, we humped along until we tired of that position, then tried the next on the list. And not always in order. I let Marge choose every so often, particularly those that really heated her up. I mean, a gentleman shouldn't always demand his favorites, right?

We both tired by time the following morning's sun poked it's head over the mountains far east of my dunes. By then we just played with each other's assets, not expecting more climaxes, although I did give her a dozen or so more and had a couple of barely qualifying ones myself.

"Please, Matt?"

"Yeah?" I figured she wanted another poke, and I just didn't have any left.

"What about my titties? Part of our deal is you get to play with them all you want. Don't you like them?"

Of course I did. Didn't all real men like breasts?

I corralled what little strength I had, directed it to one hand, slipped it onto her chest and found a breast.

"Ooh, that feels good. Squeeze it gently, okay Matt? Please?"

I did as she asked. I mean, she'd done everything I asked for the last umteen hours, surely I could treat her to a little accommodation, right?

They could have been somewhat bigger. I knew that from shortly after I saw her walking toward me across the sand for the first time. But they were firm, perky, warm and inviting.

"You should suck it,' she said. "In fact, suck them both. I want you to. Please?"

That sounded like approval for what I'd already done to her. "Too tired, just yet. Haven't the energy."

"Then let me. I'll furnish the source, you furnish the suction." With that she squirmed around until I had one nipple in my mouth and another breast crowding my cheek. I put suction on the nipple.

"Oh! I like that!" So did I. She squirmed around a little more, but not enough to pull that nipple free of my lips.

"Wonder if that's what having a baby suck them feels like."

I hadn't a clue. According to what I'd always been told, my mother never breast fed me so I had no reference. Maybe that's why this seemed like heaven. I raked my tongue across the end of her nipple.

"Oooh!"

"Liked that, huh?"

"Ooh yeah!"

Good. Maybe if I did that sort of thing often enough, I'd turn her into a own private beach bitch.

"Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"You married?"

"No. Wouldn't be here doing this if I were."

"Ever been?"

"No."

"No kids, then?"

"Right."

"How come?"

"Haven't found anybody I liked that well."

"You like me, don't you?"

"You're all right—when you're not being an asshole."

"I hope the kind of asshole you don't like is the kind I don't want to be anymore. I want to keep on being the kind of asshole you do like."

I nodded, moving her breast as I did. She lowered herself so the bulk of her breast rested on my lips.

"You getting any milk?"

"Should I? You're not nursing or pregnant are you?"

"Wish I was."

"Nursing? Or pregnant?"

"Wish I was both. I hate my life the way it is. Anything would be better."

"Why is it bad?"

"Everybody in town hates me."

"Well, if you been a jerk with them like you been with me, I can't blame 'em."

She shook her head.

"The department makes me ticket everybody for nit-picky things, just to add fines to the city treasury. If I don't write at least enough tickets to equal my pay, I don't get paid. You know last week I gave a ticket to a ninety-two year old man for running a stop sign? He was going slower than a snail could crawl, but the city law says any movement at all through a stop is a violation.

"Then we've got two stop signs that you can't see because they purposely planted bushes where nobody could see the signs. I probably write twenty tickets a week for that. God, I hate it. I thought when I became an officer, I'd be doing something to help keep people safe and protect them from criminals. Instead what am I doing? Writing little old men tickets for no reason except stupid rules and to make money for the city. I hate it. I hate my job. I hate that town, and I hate me."

"So, does this help?" I raked my tongue across her nipple again and sucked real hard. I don't know if that was milk, but a new taste infiltrated my mouth.

She shuddered and pressed her breast even more firmly against my mouth.

"You want my other tittie?" She didn't wait for my answer, just pulled the present occupant loose and pushed the other nipple into my mouth. I took it and put a suck on it.

"There," she said, "that's nice. You should have a woman's tit in your mouth every night."

Bidding for the job, are you? I thought. If you are, you're certainly going at it right. Then I remembered: For the last part I not only got her tits, but her clit as well. What could I do with that?

I reached down until I found her pussy mound, separated her lips, stuck three of my fingers inside, and curled the longest one so when I hooked it inside her, I had her G-spot.

"Oh god!" She abruptly jumped, moaned, then shuddered.

You just wait, I thought. We got seven hours until the tide should reach your little car. In that time I'm going to make you fall in love with the man you wrote a huge ticket to for at that hidden stop sign back home. And just when you're about to come, I'm going to quit and leave you hanging all alone, to shiver and shake because your body wants so bad to be fucked to a climax. You'll feel so rotten all day you'll never forgive me. Pay you back, you little bitch. How about that? Then, while you're in this rampant condition, I'll take you down to you car, naked like you will still be, pull your car out of the sand, and send you on your way, still shaking and itching from no climax. Yeah, that'll serve you right!

So I did.

By the time the tide was coming in fast, I stopped, tossed her out of bed, and struck camp without explaining anything.

"What are you doing?" Her voice had the tone of panic in it. She damned well deserved it.

"I'm tired of screwing around with you. Walk down there to your car—naked. I'll bring the truck and pull you out. Then you can take your little car and go back to writing your petty traffic tickets."

"Why, Matt? Didn't I treat you right and keep up my end of our deal?"

"You did all right this time, but you fucked me big time on a 'failure to stop' ticket about a year ago," I said out its window as I horsed my truck around her and headed for the beach. She came stumbling after the truck instead of shortcutting over the dune directly, tears in her eyes as she struggled to keep up.

She pestered me, half weeping all the time while I set the truck, strung out the winch line, and snagged the tow hook into a shipping tie-down bracket the Mercedes dealer had neglected to remove.

"Go get in your car and steer it out of there, up this way toward my truck." I didn't give her any cordiality, because I knew that was what she really wanted.

I went to my pickup, climbed in, set the brakes, and began winching. At first the little Mercedes mushed through the soft sand, sinking more instead of rising, but then, as it reached the edge where the sand firmed up, it lifted and became a wheeled vehicle again. I pulled her well clear before I stopped, unhooked, and retrieved my winch line. She was right there as I clambered into my truck to leave.

"So there you are. You're out of the soft sand and I've had a pretty fair fuck or two. We're even, so get in your car and go. Oh, and I suggest you get yourself a decent life, one you don't have to apologize for." She looked like I'd slapped her out of the blue—which verbally I had. "Follow that road over the dunes past my campsite to get to the main road." She stood there, mouth open, breasts pointing out oh so beautifully, her expression looking completely baffled.

I started my truck and headed down the beach and turned inland where my road over the dunes met the high tide mark on the beach. When I reached the dunes' top, I kept going, unlocked and opened the gate onto Route 101, and kept going until I came into the closest town, fifteen miles south. There, I stopped, ordered up a hamburger for lunch, and tried to calm down. I didn't need a woman, any woman, least of all that Mercedes-driving bitch, even if she was a pretty decent fuck. Let her go home, let her solve her own problems, let her find some guy who had no more manliness than to put up with her crap. No, not that one for me! If you must have a woman—and now that I'd fucked Marge until the cows came home, I knew how good sex could be, even if the woman began as a bitch—find a girl who isn't fucked up in the head because everyone hates her. Find one like Marge Swanson could have been had she not allowed herself to become a bitter bitch feeding her town's budget policies.

The beach was in the midst of another quiet sunset when I returned. I set up camp, popped the seal of another sixteen-ouncer, and settled into my chair. The seagulls swarmed around the hole the Mercedes had left in the soft sand, the breeze wafted the sea's fragrance up to me, and I wondered what the past day would have been like had that bitch not trespassed upon my property and gotten her car stuck. I had a persistent vision before my eyes, her naked body following me around while I prepared to rescue her car, her in every position on my he-she, twenty-six position fuck list, of her smile as she sucked me up ready for the next position on the list, as I looked up and realized what a baby must enjoy, sucking its mother's tit. No wonder most nursed with their eyes closed. You just couldn't withstand much more heaven than that.

Several gulls got into a squabble, fighting over something they thought was food, so maybe their noise was why the first indication I wasn't alone was two gentle hands closing on my shoulders and massaging my neck where it met my shoulders.

"Matt, Honey?"she whispered in my ear. "Position Number Nineteen is next on our list, right? I think it's my favorite." She kissed my neck. "Thanks for last night and this morning. I can't believe the way I feel about you—and about me. There's no way I'm going back home." She twisted her naked body around and planted a crooked kiss on my lips. "Please come use me lots more, like you did already, okay? For both of us? I promise you this bitchy woman will make it worth your while. Or do I have to waste time and go get my car stuck again first?"

Her 'please,' 'thanks,' and invitation sounded heartfelt and genuine this time, so I decided she deserved a second chance. After all, last evening I'd discovered sharing a beach sunset with a beer and a naked woman beat the hell out of sharing it with a beer alone.