On the Beach Ch. 08

I stand up in the tub. Muriel stands beside the tub and turns on the water. She fills the old tin pitcher and holds it above my head. I tilt my head back and let her rinse my body clean.

----

By the time I thought of shaving Mark's body for him, he seemed to have relaxed quite a bit. At least his face stopped looking like it might crumble into sobs at any minute. I didn't make too much of his erection. Men got erections all the time. Of course, they pretty much want to fuck all the time as well but in this case I didn't think that was high up on Mark's priorities.

Sweet Jesus, shaving his young, slender and hard body had got my motor revving. I had bathed him to offer comfort. There was no lust in it. I can't say the same for the shaving. My mind had moved on to other things besides comforting. When he tilted his head back and arched his back for me to rinse him, it was all I could do to keep my hands and mouth off his dick. It jutted out from his body, all smooth and brown from the sun, a crystal clear drop of precum hanging from the slit. It felt my own juices running down my legs. I was glad I put a towel on the chair. Damn.

When I turn the water off, Mark picks up the towel he'd been sitting on and runs it over his head, drying his hair. He pats the rest of his body dry and steps out of the tub.

"Your turn," he whispers.

"I showered right before you came over and haven't done anything to work up a sweat."

He presses the flat of his hand against my pussy, the middle finger pressing between the lips.

"Did you shave?"

"No. I wax, sugar."

"Feels a little stubbly."

"Probably. I'm about due."

"Want me to shave you, Muriel?"

His finger is working inside my pussy. When it comes to worldliness, I had Mark beat all to hell but, damn, his finger is sure distracting.

"I always get razor burn. That's why I wax."

"Then you're doing it wrong. I'll show you." He pulls his hand away. "Get in the tub."

"Mark," I start to protest but he puts that wet finger in his mouth and sucks on it.

"In the thub," he lisps around his finger.

I do as he asks. I'll be Johnny Brown if he doesn't tease me. He shaves under my arms, rinses 'em, tut-tutts at how poor a job he's done and does it again. Then my legs. I had paid good money for laser treatments. My legs weren't hairy. That doesn't give him pause. He shaves them anyway.

Then he starts petting my poor over-excited pussy, saying he needs to understand which direction the hair grows in. My problem, he explains, is that I had probably shaved against the grain instead of with it. And, he tut-tutts again, I had probably neglected to exfoliate, gently, to keep the pores open. He'll be happy to show me.

By the time he spreads the shaving cream over my cunt, I damn near come from just his touch. He doesn't tease with the razor, though. He is all serious. He takes his time. He doesn't nick me once, not even when he spreads the top of my lips and uses the corner of the razor to shave around my clit, and the whole time it was just twitching like somebody was running electricity through it.

When he asks me to turn, I don't hesitate. I turn and spread my ass with both hands. He fingers my bottom, shaves it, rinses it, and fingers it some more. I don't mean to say he puts his finger inside me, not that I would have minded, but he just strokes my bunghole with his fingertips.

I stand in the middle of the tub and he rinses me, much as I had rinsed him. He holds a towel out for me and wraps me in it when I stepped out.

When we kiss, it is more comforting than erotic, a kiss of gratitude and friendship as much as it was lustful.

His lips feel nice on mine. So do the arms he wraps around my waist. I tell myself to be careful. I could love this man and he could love me but falling in love would be a dead end road. I have to make sure that didn't happen.

------

When Muriel steps back, she smiles at me before turning away. I follow her to her bedroom. It's a simple room. It has none of the country character one might expect from her accent. The walls are covered with more art, some of it was quite - well, arousing.

She turns back the covers and climbs in. I follow. I lay on my side, head propped on one hand. I put my other hand behind her neck and pull her toward me. I move toward her and push my hard-on into the warmth of her body. I love the feel of her lips, of her palm on the side of my face. I tear myself from the comfort of her mouth and kiss my way down her neck. I have to move down in the bed to reach her nipple.

It's already hard. I strive to barely touch it. I have a vision of the air compressing between the tip of my tongue and the peak of her firm nipple. I want her to feel my tongue, or imagine she feels it, before it ever touches her flesh. Her fingers work in my hair. When I touch her nipple, her fingers clench. She moans softly above me. Her body shifts as she bends to kiss the top of my head.

I move my tongue around her nipple, moving as slowly as possible, using my tongue to create a memory of the topography of that small little hillock of skin and nerves that's the source of so much pleasure. I inch outward, tracing a spiral galaxy of sensations with the tip of my tongue.

Muriel pushes her crotch against my leg. It's warm and wet, very wet. Her pussy feels so slick and smooth rubbing over my hairless thigh. I add that to the list of reasons to shave my body, the elimination of all that can be eliminated that separates my skin from my lover's. Muriel moves her hips, rubbing herself against my leg. I begin to rhythmically tighten my quads, matching her movements, giving her something firm to rub against.

My tongue completes its encirclement of her areola. It amazes me that I can feel the difference between the skin of her nipple and the softer, smoother texture of her actual breast. I pull the nipple and areola into my mouth. My one free hand, the one I'm not lying on, cups her other breast. I don't pinch or pull with my fingers. I keep my hand flat and brush the palm over the nipple, barely grazing it. She stiffens. She reaches for my hand and pulls it to her mouth. She licks the palm, one long, slow stroke of her tongue, and puts my hand back over her breast.

With great gentleness, I suck the nipple between my lips. I flick the tip of my tongue over it, a half a dozen times, fast as I can, then let it go. I pause long enough for her body to wonder if I have abandoned it before plucking at it with my lips. I tug, release, tug again, over and over.

My thigh is drenched in her pussy juice. She slides her cunt up and down my leg, gyrating circles against it, or simply humping against it in seemingly random patterns.

With my mouth, I decide to repeat the sequence, adding a long puff of air that causes her already hard nipple to contract even harder. Blow, touch, circle, suck, flick, pluck. Repeat. It may sound boring but it works.

My other hand simply presses against her breast.

I interrupt the sequence when the humping against my thigh reached a crescendo. I suck her nipple between my lips and pull at it, much more firmly than I have been doing. As her fingers yank at my hair, I start to flick her nipple, not fast, but hard, deliberately, pushing with my stiffened tongue until the nipple is as far to one side as it will go before letting up the pressure just enough for it to whip back to its natural position.

Her mouth drops to my shoulder. Her teeth press against the skin.

"Oh, my fucking God, don't stop. Please. Don't stop. Harder. It's okay. Harder."

The last syllable stretches into space and disappears as she bites my shoulder, hips convulsing against my thigh.

-----

As I lay there, gasping for breath, I try to remember if I'd ever cum like that before, dry humping a leg while my tit was being played with. If I had, it wasn't as memorable as this. Mark played with my nipple, in much the same way his momma does. Could something like that be inherited? Even accounting for the events of the day, there was no way Mark could have ever seen the way his momma played with a titty.

I remain here snuggled against the smooth skin of his chest. My fingers move over his arm. I hope I hadn't bit him too hard but Jesus, I had to do something to keep from screaming. The image of me bucking against his leg, screaming my fool head off, while the folks next door stood on the deck mouths agape, set me off to giggling.

"What's so funny?"

Goddamn men and their insecurities. I nip his chest and he yelps.

"I was imagining the reaction next door if I had screamed as loud as I wanted to just now. Nothing funny about what you did to me. Jesus, that was something else."

"Really?"

I roll my eyes instead of nipping that time.

"Yes, really. You're what twenty-three, -four? You're a better lover than most men I've met and right up there with most women, come to think of it."

"Twenty-two, almost twenty-three." He is quiet a moment. "Thank you."

"Thank you, ya ninny. Christ, you nearly killed me and you're worried I didn't like it? Men amaze me sometime. You must have had more pussy than anyone else on that campus of yours. I'm surprised you had time to graduate."

"Nope. Only one."

I raise up to look at him. I think he has to be pulling my leg. No one made love that sweet and hard without a lot of practice.

"You pulling my leg?"

He shakes his head. "I dated one girl through all of college. She was in my freshmen orientation group. Christina."

He says no more but I kept quiet. I know he has more to say. I rest my cheek back against his chest.

"I asked her to marry me. She didn't even pretend to need time to think about it. She was polite enough to blush when she told me she 'pictured our relationship' as part of her youth and now she was moving into 'new avenues of adulthood'. I would 'always' be her 'first' love but the time for first love was over."

My head jostled as he snorts. "From what I hear she found second love awfully fast. She's living with some dude she met working as an intern at the accounting firm she took a job with."

"What a stupid cunt."

Mark almost bounces me off his chest laughing.

"It's my turn. What's so funny?"

"Jill said the exact same thing. You two are a lot alike. Bull-headed. Always sure your right."

"Nothing wrong with that." I tilt my head to look at him and he looks back. "Although," I add, "keep in mind, I try not to open my mouth unless I'm pretty sure I know what I'm talking about."

"Fair enough," he whispers and scoots down to kiss me. When he moves I feel his hard-on against me. I had nearly forgotten, lost in the haze of my orgasm and his words.

I roll him onto his back and sit astraddle his belly. His eyes narrow. I lean over and resume our kiss. We kiss and kiss. Seems like there would be only so many permutations of lips and tongues but kissing never seems to get dull, assuming you're kissing the right person.

Even so, other ideas come to mind. I stretch out over him, resting my hands on the headboard. My breasts cradle his face. His face is the one part of him I hadn't shaved. His whiskers are scratchy against the soft skin of my breast. I let him play with my nipples a little but not for long. They are just too sensitive. I tell him that, mindful of his male ego. I don't want him wondering if he'd done something wrong.

I wiggle my way lower on his hard belly. I reach between our bodies and guide his cock into my cunt. He starts to move, starts to fuck me.

I put two fingers over his lips. "Just put yourself inside me, baby. Okay?" He groans in frustration but his hips stop moving. "It'll be worth it, lover. Promise."

Men love to play with women's nipples. Men's nipples have the same nerves as a woman's. Why do so many men ignore their nipples? Is it because they think playing with their nipples is gay? Beats me. I gave up on trying to understand men a long time ago. Women, too, I'm not sexist. Women are just as fucked up as men.

I grind my pelvis into his, as I stretch forth my tongue. I watch his eyes on my tongue. I do to him what he had done, very effectively, to me. I let the tip of my tongue touch his right nipple and then pull away. I feel his body move under mine as his ass cheeks clench. Good.

I set to work on his nipples. I get the right one good and hard with my lips and tongue. I roll and pull at the left one with my fingers. I switch back and forth. Soon enough, Mark's fingers are in my hair. When the clenching of his ass becomes a little too strong and little too vigorous I stop. I lift my pussy off his cock.

"No, please. Let me fuck you," he begs. I stretch over him and give him a kiss, loving the feel of his hard, wet cock sliding over my belly.

"Trust me, baby."

I kiss my way down his body. I love the hard ridges of muscle over his stomach. He presses his cock into my cleavage. I sit on my knees, lean over my thighs and titty-fuck him. That doesn't last very long. I sense him getting close and pull away.

"Fuck," he gasps and collapses back onto the bed. I'm impressed he didn't reach for his cock. I'd asked him to trust me and he is.

My Lord, I am torn. I want to suck his cock, almost more than anything. It's so damn pretty, all angry and wet from my body. I love the taste of my pussy, especially when I can taste it on a beautiful cock. I move Mark's leg up with one hand, giving myself room.

I raise up on my knees and begin to fuck my cunt with three fingers. Mark's eyes are closed but when nothing seems to be happening, he opens them. They zero in on my pumping fingers. When I have his attention, I pull my fingers out of my cunt and shove them in my mouth. His hips wiggle beneath me. I shove my fingers back inside my cunt and begin to bounce up and down on my hand, making my tits bounce on my chest.

I pull my fingers out and, supporting myself with my other arm, lean over Mark. I feel his cock slide over my cunt. When I touch my slick fingers to his lips he opens his mouth and gobbles them up so ferociously for a moment I fear he may bite them off. His tongue, wraps around each finger. He sucks at them, pressing hard against my cunt.

Enough.

I move back between his legs. I lick his cock, savoring the flavor of my cunt mingled with that of his cock. I don't suck him.

I put my hands behind his knees and lift. He resists at first, possibly because he doesn't know what I want him to do. He relaxes and I roll him into a ball. When I suck his left nut into my mouth he flinches, then relaxes. His moaned, incoherent chorus of "fuck" and "Jesus" become my background music. I switch balls. Try, and fail, to get both in my mouth.

When my tongue touches behind his ball sack, he doesn't respond but as I move further back, he stiffens.

"Muriel, I might be dirty or something," he protests.

"Sugar, I bathed you. Remember? Ain't nothing dirty about you, lover boy."

I can't see a reason to be coy. I touch the darker brown of his pucker with my tongue. I feel it spasm as he moans. His legs press against my hands but I hold them down. I swirl my tongue around his asshole, as he had swirled his around my nipples. He begins to rock under my hands.

I make my tongue as rigid as I can and push. He gasps. I fuck his ass with my tongue, my nose flattening against the ridge that runs from his asshole to his ball sack. His balls are rested on my forehead. I long to have him squat over my face, or better, to roll him by his shoulders, ass straight up and open to my oral assault, to mouth fuck his ass until he shoots his load all over his face. Not today. Today, I'm too impatient. Not today. Someday, though.

I let a mouthful of spit wash over his asshole. I shift my body, put my middle finger in my pussy, soaking it. I push my fingertip against his asshole. There's a moment of resistance and then I'm inside.

"Holy fuck," he gasps as I turned my hand over.

I begin to flex my finger against his prostate and to rub it. I bend over, my hair brushing his belly and scoop his cock up into my mouth. I bob my head over the crown as the finger in his ass continues to roam over the twin walnuts of his male G-spot.

His hips rocket off the bed. His cock buries itself in my throat so quickly I gag. I hadn't gagged on a cock in over a decade. He shoots his load so far into my throat all I taste is the last residual spasms and he relaxes onto my hand.

My finger is still deep in his ass when I raise my head.

For some reason, perhaps I heard something or caught movement in the periphery of my vision, I turn toward the door to my bedroom.

Bill is standing there, a look of concentration on his face. He's nude. His cock hangs between his legs. He crosses to the bed and climbs in. Mark opens his eyes when the mattress shifts. Bill lays down on his back beside him. Mark is on his side, my hand trapped between his legs, and nestles his head on his brother's shoulder.

He tenses a little when I pull my finger free. I quietly go into the bathroom and wash my hand. I crawl across the two brothers, rolled on my side, and press myself to Mark's back.

That's how we fall asleep.