This is a continuation of my previous story: Ingenious Toys. 
The ‘Kombi’ of course was a VW Transporter, but not one of the 1960’s chartreuse microbuses you might be imagining. The only similarity that it bore to one of those countless hippie/surfer vans circling the country was an airbrush mural on the side; a surfer shooting through a pipeline and running his fingers through the wall of water that threatened to crash down on top of him. Far from being a “fried out Kombi” like in the Men At Work song, this one was a current model van with leather seats, air conditioning, and about a dozen surfboards of all shapes and sizes in the back.

I saw that it had only one set of doors and as soon as I worked out that there was no back seat, I called “middle” so that I could sit next to Spike … only to discover that the driver had a separate bucket seat and the twin passenger seat was on the other side of the handbrake. My sexy visions of squashing up against his leg and having his elbow brush my breast every time he changed gear were dashed.

Oblivious of my little competitive streak, Rupali had other ideas; she was stage managing this whole affair to culminate in a three-way; and to that end she cuddled up close to me in an effort to establish our girl-on-girl credentials. Sitting so that our legs touched, she unsuccessfully tried to close the split up the leg of her sarong and then, giving up, she placed a slim brown hand on my knee. I saw a momentary flick of Spike’s head and knew that he was watching in his peripheral vision, so I parted my legs a few inches and smiled as Rupali’s fingers predictably slithered into the gap. As Spike turned a corner, she slid it further up, bringing my dress along for the ride, and began stroking my inner thigh in a circular motion with the tip of her middle finger, the sexy look of her long, curved, pink nails between my legs giving me a little shiver.

Spike wasn’t watching us directly but he was shifting in his seat and adjusting his board shorts a fair bit, so I was pretty sure he knew exactly where Rupali’s hand was and he had also probably figured out where it was headed. When we stopped at a traffic light and Spike was in no danger of crashing the van, I took a big deep breath, puffing out my breasts and then released it again with just a touch of a moan, opening my legs a little wider at the same time. Rupali’s hand worked to the top of my thigh, hiking up my dress even further until her little finger made contact with my crotch, then she flicked it back and forth over my bikini bottom, titillating my pussy lips.

It was all for show, of course, and not really getting me hot … well, not very hot … but I loved the effect it was having on Spike as he missed the light turning green and was honked by the car behind. I turned to Rupali as he got the Kombi under way again and gave her a “cool it” look, so she moved her hand back down to my knee but left the dress pulled up to my crotch so that Spike would have something to look at if he decided to sneak a peek. I don’t know whether he did or not, but I didn’t catch him.

We found a good park right near the beach and hopped out into the searing Sydney heat while Spike spent a few extra seconds in the privacy outside the driver’s door adjusting his erection before grabbing his towel and a bag from the back.

“Are you surfing,” I asked.

“No, the surf’s rubbish today,” he complained. “It’s too still. I might get a board out later, but if you girls want company …?”

“What do you think, Belinda?” Rupali asked, winking at me. “He’s pretty cute. Will you get mad if I’m flirting with him instead of you?”

“But you’ll still flirt with me a bit, right,” I pouted.

“Of course sweetie,” she leaned down and kissed me on the lips.

“And I can flirt with him, too?” I asked.

“Sure sweetie,” she reassured me. “Just keep a lid on it; he’s already seen you naked and I don’t want him thinking you’re easy.”

“OK, then,” I smiled.

Poor Spike, he was following us back and forth like a tennis match; his eyes getting wider with each exchange.

Rupali turned to him. “Good news, Spike: you’ve got two hotties competing for your attention today.”

We each took an arm and walked him down to the beach. I pulled the arm I was holding and pressed it to my breast; this was going to be a good day.

We found a patch of sand to ourselves and Rupali immediately dropped her beach bag, peeled off her sarong and ran for the water, calling back “Last one in is rubbing Reef Oil into me when we get out.” Spike pulled his singlet over his head, revealing a lean waist that was tanned and muscled to match his chest and arms. He looked at me, wondering whether he should conspire to be last in the water.

“Go on,” I told him. “I need to screen up or I’ll be a lobster in ten minutes flat.” At times like these I envied Rupali’s brown skin; my milky complexion required SPF30+ even in winter sunshine. I watched Spike ran after Rupali and then screened my face, shoulders, arms, and the tops of my breasts; the rest could wait until I got out of the water.

I ran down the beach and found them just out beyond the breaking waves, bobbing with each swell as it passed. The tide was in and it got deep quickly; I was still several metres away from them when I got out of my depth and had to swim, ducking under the waves as they broke over me. When I got out to them I couldn’t touch the bottom at all; Spike was up to his neck, but at 6’1” the water came only just past the top of Rupali’s pink bikini. With each trough that preceded a wave, her full breasts bobbed tantalizingly on top of the water.

“Are we going to stay out this deep?” I asked. “Cos I’ll last about two more minutes treading water and getting dunked by the swells.”

Spike looked concerned. “If we go closer in we’ll be under the break,” he said. “I can take it, but I don’t think Rupali’s bikini top can.” He smiled. “Just so we’re clear, I’m all in favour of moving closer in.”

“That’s OK,” I said, reaching up and holding Rupali’s shoulder. “You’ll hold me up, won’t you babe? Duck down so I don’t have to reach, will you.”

“I don’t want your drowning corpse taking me down too. Hold onto Spike; he’s getting flirty and needs a distraction.”

I paddled over to Spike and put one hand on the slope of his muscular shoulder. “OK?” I asked.

“Very OK,” he said, and I felt a warm tingle even through the cold water.

As the next swell passed through, Spike had to jump to stay above it. I pushed down on his shoulder to keep my head above water and ended up pushing him back under. He came back up spluttering but laughing. “Don’t worry,” I smiled. “I didn’t get dunked.”

“What a relief,” he said ironically, spitting out water. “How about you hold on a bit tighter so that when I jump, you come with me?”

That sounded like an invitation; I didn’t need a second one. I pulled in close and clung to him like a baby on her mother’s hip; my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. I was slightly front-on with a breast either side of his pectoral muscle and my vagina settled onto the point of his hip bone. Happy, happy girl. I smiled at him, our faces now just a few inches apart.

I looked over at Rupali. She was still smiling – not jealous – and all was going to plan as far as she was concerned. “Missing me?” I asked.

“On the contrary,” she said, walking over to us. “Now whenever I want you I have you right here.” She leaned in placed a hand on Spike’s chest as she kissed me, passionately and open mouthed. “You don’t mind, do you Spike?”

He shook his head. “All good.”

“Excellent!” said Rupali, planting a short, sweet kiss on Spike’s lips.

He looked at me, confused and wondering what sort of jealous fight he might have got in the middle of. I leaned in and gave him a little kiss too. “Just roll with it, Spike.” Another swell was right on top of us. “Wave!” I said, giving Spike a squeeze.

He jumped a bit late but kept our heads above water, his hip grinding painfully into my labia. I had to wriggle against him to open up my pussy under my bikini so that my entrance settled on his hip rather than my labia. Comfortable again, I looked back at his face, but he had his eyes closed and was taking a deep breath. Poor Spike. I gave him a cuddle to make him feel better.

We stayed out for nearly two hours, playing, splashing and chatting. Rupali wanted to go and lie in the sun and if I wasn’t there she was going to oil that long gorgeous body on her own. I gave Spike another little kiss and hopped off his hip. “You coming in?”

“Soon,” he said. “I’m going to body-surf a few waves.” And maybe wait for that that bludgeon in your shorts to go down, I thought.

Back on the beach, Rupali towelled her long hair dry while I watched Spike expertly swim onto the crest of a small wave and ride it into the shallows. “Did I overdo it?” I asked.

“No, you were perfect sweetie. God, you were so hot and vulnerable I wanted to fuck you.”

“You say the sweetest things, babe.”

“My turn though,” she said, throwing me her SPF0 Reef Oil. “When you see him coming in, start oiling me and see if you can get him to take over.”

She twisted her long hair and tied it in a knot on her head, then lay face down on her towel. A couple of waves later Spike came running out of the surf, so I poured some Reef Oil onto Rupali’s shoulders and started rubbing it in. “How can you stand this stuff?” I asked. “You know there’s no UV protection, right? Why don’t you just baste yourself in butter and climb into an oven?”

“A billion Indians with no skin cancer say you’re wrong; I’ve got genetics on my side.”

I started massaging the oil into her shoulders as Spike came up to us and towelled his hard, tanned body dry. I looked up at him and put a finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet, and then beckoned him over beside me. I squirted more oil on Rupali’s back below the strap of her bikini, and then I took Spike’s wrists and brought them down to Rupali’s back. He looked at me questioningly: should I? I nodded encouragement so he leaned over and experimentally spread the oil with his fingertips.

With her face in the towel, Rupali said “Rub it properly, Belinda, otherwise I’ll sack you and appoint Spike chief masseur when he comes in.” Emboldened, Spike started spreading the oil slowly with both palms. I silently moved out of his way and began applying sunscreen – real sunscreen – to my own body. It wasn’t an onerous task; at 4’11’’ and three-quarters and weighing in at around 40 kilos (88 lbs), there’s not much of me to cover so I’m pretty cheap to keep in sunscreen. Spike kneeled closer, applying pressure and earning a low moan from Rupali.

“Mmmm. That’s nice, sweetie. Unhook my top and get under the strap, will you?”

He undid the clasp and laid the ends of the straps out to the side. Rupali’s breasts were pressed into the towel and now bulged out either side of her chest. Spike massaged up and down her long back, working the oil into her skin, which was now glistening and smelling sweetly of coconut. He had his thumbs facing together over her spine with fingers splayed out wide; they curled around her narrow waist but on each upward stroke he pulled them in, not quite daring to touch the sides of her breasts.

“Oooooh babe,” she moaned. “You have magic hands. There are still some dry patches. Make sure you get everywhere.”

Spike put more oil on his hands and shaped them around Rupali’s waist. He stroked upwards over her ribs and the side-swells of her breasts, all the way to her armpits and then back down again, lingering at her breasts and moving his fingers in circles, feeling the pliant firmness of her flesh.

Rupali moaned in fresh encouragement. “Ooo you dirty girl, Belinda!” Spike quickly moved his hand away and Rupali complained: “Oh, you tease! Go back.” Spike brought both hands back up to her breasts and slowly massaged the sides, his fingers slipping into the gap underneath to stroke the undersides. Rupali was purring with delight and encouraging him on. She rolled her back slightly towards him, raising one breast a little higher to improve his access, just enough to expose the edge of a brown nipple. Spike rubbed oil over the exposed flesh, lingering and cupping the underside, brushing a finger over the edge of the nipple. Rupali moaned and arched her back under his touch, encouraging him to explore further. Spike pressed more firmly , lifting the nipple off the towel and allowing him to run his fingertips over its full surface. Rupali shivered and the point stiffened under his touch; circling, stroking, gently pinching and squeezing.

Spike moved his hands to Rupali’s lower back, rubbing and kneading and sliding his thumb tips beneath the top edge of her bikini bottom. “Fold it down a little if you like, Blinny,” she said. Spike hooked his fingers under the fabric and folded it back, revealing a few of inches of bottom cleavage. Rupali’s narrow, high-cut briefs were now narrow and very low cut. Spike applied more oil and reversed the direction of his massage from bottom-up to top-down, thumbs pointing inwards and fingers forwards, he stroked firmly from the middle of Ruapli’s back down to her bottom, fingers disappearing to the third knuckle into her very truncated bikini briefs. He held his hands there, cupping her buttocks and spreading oil over them, fingertips exploring the edges of the cleft in between.

Rupali’s breathing began to speed up. “That’s wonderful, sweetie. More of that.”

Spike rubbed back up her back, lingering around her breasts, again sliding the tips of his middle fingers into the hollows and teasing the sensitive undersides, then in one fluid movement he swept downwards, his hard hands ploughing through her flesh, over the tops of her buttocks and deep beneath her bikini bottom, thumbs drawing her cheeks apart and index finders diving into the void, barely an inch or so from her moist centre. She arched her bottom up into his hands, moaning “Oh, yes. Please … a little more.”

This was getting a bit heavy for a public beach, so I got Spike’s attention and gestured to her long, shapely legs; suggesting that he would be remiss not to explore their lean curves. I was feeling a bit breathless watching them, and if he didn’t rub her legs then I would.

He moved around closer to her calves and adjusted what looked like a very uncomfortable erection. Using more oil he massaged each leg in turn starting at the ankle and working upwards, pressing his thumbs into her hard calves, passing gently over the sensitive backs of her knees, and closing his strong hands around her lower thighs. When both legs were glistening with oil from mid-thigh down, he wrapped his hands around the closest calf and slowly worked upwards, kneading the backs of her legs with his thumbs but keeping the fingertips wrapped all the way around to the towel. Her thighs were touching just above the knee but instead of stopping when he reached that junction, he gently pressed upwards signalling his intention and Rupali’s thighs parted like the petals of an exotic flower.

I could see the hot pink fabric of her bikini tapering down her bottom to a sheer two-inch strip as it dived between her open legs, barely covering her sex. It moulded over the curves of her labia and dimpled in the middle where her entrance sat wantonly open, wishing for something to plunge into the hot, silky depths within.

Rupali was panting now, her breasts swelling and heaving beneath her. She tilted her bottom upwards, changing the angle of her vagina so that it was directly in the path of Spike’s approaching hands. Slowly he kneaded the long muscle of her thigh, each contraction of his hands bringing his fingers an inch closer to the tiny strip of pink fabric, the only barrier between his searching digits and the warmth and wetness that awaited them. His final stroke brought his thumbs to the edge of her bikini on the back of her thigh, the index finger of the hand between her legs almost brushing the thin covering protecting her womanhood. And there they stopped.

Rupali moaned in frustration between gasps of passion as she pumped her hips, trying to encourage his fingers to complete their journey. “Please, sweetie. Please,” she begged. Spike looked over at me, his eyes feverish with passion, asking my permission to go further. I motioned for him to wait, but not to stop. I moved opposite to him and leaned close so that I could talk to Rupali in a low voice that only she and Spike could hear.

“Rupali, you don’t really want me to rub your pussy, do you?”

“Yes, I do. Please,” she moaned.

“Well I’m sorry, it’s too late,” I said in a sexy, husky voice. “Spike is coming up from the beach now; he’s going to interrupt us.”

“Oh no!” she sounded disappointed.

“Oh, you should see him, Rupali,” I went on in the sexy voice. “The water is beading on his muscles and his shorts are soaking wet and clinging to his skin. I can see the contours of his cock, it looks hard; I think it’s hard for you Rupali. He’s looking between your open legs and … oh my goodness, there’s a split in your bikini! He can see right through it to your pussy! I can see it too, you dirty girl! It’s open and it’s wet and I think Spike wants it – I know I do – I can see it in his eyes.”

I could hear Rupali’s rapid breathing and every few breaths she vocalised a moan as the heat and tension built up inside her. Spike was looking at me wide eyed; the fact that his fingers were just a heartbeat from Rupali’s wet entrance momentarily forgotten as he listened to me talking dirty.

“Oh my God, Rupali, he’s pulling down his shorts. Oh holy … his cock is … oh it’s … Jesus … it’s beautiful, it’s perfect. He’s still looking at you – so open and so ready – and now he’s kneeling down between your legs. He’s stroking that perfect cock, pumping it, imagining how it will feel sliding deep inside you, pumping you until you come, ramming it all the way home until you beg him to stop.”

“His cock is poised now,” I continued. “It’s just outside your hot, wet entrance. But Spike doesn’t look sure any more; he doesn’t know whether you want it.”

“I do! I do want it,” she affirmed.

“He doesn’t understand, Rupali,” I said. “What do you want? What do you want him to do you?”

“I want his cock inside me. I want him to slide it all the way in. I want him to fuck me. I want him to pump me full of cum,” she said, her voice breaking and hitching with emotion. “God, make him do it, Belinda. Make him fuck me. Grab his cock and put it in me.”

“I think he’s going to. Hang on, I’ll see if he’s ready. Oh Christ, I’m wrapping my hand around it and I can’t touch my thumb. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever felt, it’s like iron. It’s so hot too; I can feel the heat baking into my hand. Now I’m bringing the tip of it to your pussy.” I nodded at Spike. “Can you feel me putting it into your pussy?” Spike lifted his finger and touched it against the dimple outlining Rupali’s open labia. He pressed in gently against the pink fabric and moved his finger in circles sliding the lining against her lubricating juices.

“Yes, it’s right there. I feel it,” she moaned.

“I’m going to try putting it all the way in now. Ready? One, two …,” I let out a deep moan as I got carried away with my own fantasy. Spike pressed down harder onto the bikini gusset and rotated his fingers in wide circles, stretching her lips and opening her up wider. I reached down and closed my hand over his, guiding his fingers with a pressure and motion that I know Rupali likes.

“Oh Christ, Rupali. His cock just went all the way in your pussy, his balls are pressed up against you,” I said, pressing Spike’s fingers around her labia. “Can you feel them grinding into you?” She moaned that yes, she could feel it. “He wants to go even deeper but you’ve taken everything already. Now he’s fucking you; long slow strokes, all the way out and then in again, all the way up to his balls. Uh … oh … yes … uh huh,” I grunted in time with Spike’s fingers palpating her steaming vagina.

“Oh, man, I think he’s getting ready to cum,” I started picking up the tempo with my voice as I moved Spike’s fingers up to her clitoris, feeling for it myself through the bikini and then placing his fingers, first right on top of it so he knew where it was, then circling and rubbing. “He’s pumping you now, Rupali. He’s slamming his dick all the way in, deeper and deeper, slapping his groin against your ass as he tries to get every bit of himself inside your pussy.” I could feel Rupali start to shake with the beginnings of an orgasm. Her bottom and thighs went rock hard, all the muscles along her back bunched and glistened with oil. I increased the pressure on Spike’s fingers, pressing them hard into Rupali’s clitoris, not circling any more but rubbing mercilessly back and forth over the top. I felt the change in her body as she came, quietly crying out for Spike to cum in her pussy.

“Oh my goodness! I’m holding his balls and they’re swelling in my hand,” I said, bringing Spike to an imaginary orgasm to rival Rupali’s real one. “He’s about to cum, hold on sweetie, here it comes; he’s going to pump his load into you. Oh fuck! Oh Jesus! I’m coming too. I’m coming everywhere, I just can’t watch. Cum is pumping out of his balls, I’m squeezing them and it’s rushing through my fingers and down his long, long cock and into you. He’s bursting inside you, cumming, filling you up until you overflow. Oh, now it’s running out your pussy and over his balls, over my hand. Hang on, I need to …,” I made a slurping noise, this was probably taking it too far but I was immersed in the moment and saying what I wanted to do, maybe not what she wanted to hear, “… oh babe, it tastes divine. Sweet and salty. It’s running down my chin and I’m trying to lick up every drop.” Rupali’s spasms tapered off and now she was just lying flat and spent. I stopped Spike’s fingers and returned them to a gentle massage of her labia. “He’s finished now, sweetie. He’s pulling his cock out of you … there, it’s out. I’m taking him down to the water now and wash off. You just lie there and relax.”

~~~
I took Spike’s hand and led him silently away. When we were out of earshot he said “That was incredible. I shut my eyes for a minute and I thought I was really was going to cum. It felt so real.”

“It was real,” I said. “Rupali really came.”

“God, I know,” he marvelled. “I want to do it again. How do you know how to talk dirty like that?”

We splashed into the water and waded out to the break. “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a gift. I guess I’ve just got a dirty mind.”

We ducked under a wave and came up the other side out of my depth.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, opening my mouth and finding his tongue, the salt water mixing with our saliva. I felt his thick, hard cock pressing into me and broke away. “Oh you poor thing,” I said, reaching down and rubbing his erection through his shorts. “How long has it been like that?”

“Pretty much since I saw you in that blue bikini this morning,” he said shyly, gasping as I squeezed him.

I put my lips next to his ear. “Would you like me to fix it?” I whispered.

He nodded. I reached into his shorts and wrapped my fingers around his pole. It felt every bit as perfect as I had described it to Rupali; about seven inches (perfect) and a nice handful around the middle (perfect again), although he was thicker at the base; much thicker, at the very bottom I couldn’t even close my hand around it. I shivered as my tiny, tight pussy clenched involuntarily, imagining this wonderful cock opening me up gently at first but then splitting me apart. “Pull your shorts down,” I breathed in his ear. He did. I sat on his hip again like earlier and reached under my leg to grasp his shaft.

I started stroking his cock, gripping tightly at the base and pulling, releasing the pressure as I stroked to the tip. I could feel his dick throbbing in my hand, his hip pressing into my open pussy lips, and realised with surprise that I needed relief every bit as much as he did.

With the next passing swell I pretended to lose my grip on his shoulder and washed away from him with the wave. Under water, I quickly slid my bikini off and tucked it into the rear strap of my top, taking care not to let Spike see it as I swam back over to him.

“You need to hold on tighter,” I pouted, taking his hands and closing them around my narrow waist, his thumbs and fingers very nearly meeting in the middle. I reached down and took his dick in both hands, one closed around the tip and the other holding as much of the other end as I could manage. I wrapped my legs around his hips again, but this time I was front-on rather than sitting on his hip, holding his throbbing cock just before the entrance to my womanhood – invisible beneath the rippling water. Still under the illusion that he was to be getting a hand-job, his body quivered nonetheless at this much more overt sexual position.

“Now I’ve got you where I want you,” I purred. “If you want me to keep going, I want to hear a dirty story about you and me.”

“Huh?” Surprise lit his face as he realised this wasn’t going to be a free ride. “But I’m no good at it. I’ll just turn you off.”

“All the more reason for you to try hard,” I grinned, squeezing his tool with both hands. “Go on,” I urged. “I’m getting bored and I might give up and swim back to the beach.”

“Right … Hang on … OK … I’m on a surfboard … we’re both on it,” he began quickly. “And we’re fucking …”

“Stop!” I interrupted. “You can’t start fucking me right at the beginning of the story. I’m a lady,” I grinned, batting my eyelashes. “I need to be wooed.”

“OK. How’s this … I’m rescuing you on my board,” he smiled.

“Why do I need rescuing?” I teased. “I’m a good swimmer.”

“You fell off your jet-ski and bumped your head,” he said. “You were way out behind the break and by the time I got there you were unconscious and almost drowning.”

“OK, that’s plausible,” I said, rewarding him with some slow strokes of his erection, still holding the tip near my pussy and stroking the other hand towards me. “Keep going.”

“Right, so I check you’re still breathing, and you are, so I lift you onto the board and start swimming you back to shore.”

“This is going to get good soon, right?” I asked suspiciously, holding his cock loosely to let him know he needed to sharpen up his act.

“Sure. So I try to swim in, pulling you on the board, but you keep sliding off because you’re covered in Reef Oil.”

“Is this story about me or Rupali?” I laughed.

“Shush. Just go with me here,” he grinned.

“Right. Shushing. Go ahead, Shakespeare,” I giggled. His swollen knob brushed against my open slit, causing me to squeak with surprise and close both hands in a death grip. I don’t think he noticed, or if he did he would have thought he had brushed against my bikini. Either way, his tool bulged under my fingers and it was all I could do not to just feed it straight into my hungry pussy.

“So anyway,” he said. “I’ve hauled you back up onto the board for about the tenth time and now I’m exhausted, so I rest holding the board, but that drags it lower in the water and the swells are washing over your face.”

“Glub, glub, glub,” I chirped, miming drowning.

“Exactly! So thinking quickly, I pull off my shorts and …”

“Oh, this sounds chivalrous,” I giggled.

“Shush! … and I bunch them up under your head to keep it above the water,” he finished.

“Ohhh!” I apologised. “How thoughtful; that was chivalrous! But now you’re naked, right?” My eyes flashed excitement. “But I’m still in my bikini.”

“Ah yes,” he beamed. “But I just noticed a cut on your arm from the jet-ski. It’s bleeding and I’m worried it’ll attract sharks.”

“Uh oh! I hate sharks!” I stroked his cock some more, encouraging him. With each upward stroke I opened my top hand a little touched the tip to my open pussy lips, sending little sparks of excitement outwards through my tummy and down my open legs.

He continued, probably (hopefully!) thinking that the feather touches of my pussy were just my fingers or bikini. “So thinking quickly again, I pulled off your bikini bottom and tied it around the wound, stopping the flow of blood.”

“That was quick thinking,” I laughed, gliding the tip of his cock along my slit and rubbing it gently around my clitoris. “If you’d thought any slower you might have used my bikini top instead of the bottom!”

“Ah, but you’re wrong!” He smiled back. “Your bikini top was torn free in the accident and I couldn’t find it.”

“So I’ve been topless this whole time?” I goggled at him in mock surprise.

“Yep.”

“And you haven’t once stopped to cop a feel?” I teased.

“Not once … well maybe I accidently brushed a hand over one getting you back onto the board,” he smiled. “But that’s because I was trying not to look.”

“Trying?” I giggled. “Such a gentleman! Well, since you’ve been so well behaved, I give fantasy-you permission to lick my nipples … just to try to wake me up, you understand”

“Of course! That’s what I was going to do next anyway … just to try to wake you up, you understand.”

Gently squeezing the base of his cock with my left hand to distract him, I guided the tip into my vagina with my right, the lips closing down over his knob to replace the pressure of my palm as I lifted it away. My thumb and fore-finger still circled the top of the shaft - stopping him from sliding deeper inside me - and I watched him carefully to see if he had worked out what I was up to. Incredibly, he was too wrapped up in the story to notice he was now fucking me.

“OK, so now with my eyes closed so I don’t gawk at your breasts, I lean in and kiss one softly, but you don’t respond.”

“How do you know you got my breast if you weren’t looking?” I teased.

“I had a quick peek to line it up, but then I shut them again,” he flipped back.

“Sensible,” I smiled. “But no response, right? You’d better try harder or I might slip into a coma.”

“Good idea. So I line up and kiss it again,” the real Spike shut his eyes for effect. “I open my mouth and close my lips over your nipple, running my tongue over the tip and biting it gently until it hardens.”

“Oh, God, that feels wonderful,” I moaned, shutting my own eyes. I stroked my finger and thumb over his knob, working it in and out of my pussy, all the while pretending that it was still my palm closed over the end of his manhood.

“Well I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he laughed. “I was just trying to wake you up. But I’m encouraged by the reflex response, so I reach across and stroke the other breast and that nipple hardens under my fingers.”

“But you’re still kissing the first one, right,” I sighed, eyes still shut and now sliding a little more of his cock – about two or three inches – into my pussy, setting off a contraction as my tiny opening stretched taut around his thickness. I squeezed with my circled thumb and finger to match the grip of my vagina and reached down with my other hand to cup his balls, lightly squeezing to distract attention from the other end.

“Sure, I’m still kissing the first one; I don’t want you to slip into a coma, do I?” he hitched a breath on the last two words as my fingers closed around his balls. Meanwhile, at the other end of his cock, the muscle spasm was still rippling up and down the walls of my pussy and I thought for moment I was about to come. I recited the names of the seven dwarves in my head until I had control again. Picking up confidence, I voluntarily flexed my pelvic wall, squeezing him and relishing the hardness of his manhood inside me, pressing back against me as I moaned and bit down on my lower lip.

I noticed that he had been quiet for a few seconds and opened my eyes to see his nostrils flaring and eyes pinched shut, not in pleasure though; my grip on his balls had tightened while I suppressed my orgasm, so I hurriedly released him and moved that hand back to the base of his erection.

“Oops, sorry,” I apologised sheepishly. I squeezed his cock at both ends and leaned forward to place a small kiss on his lips. “Keep going, you’re good at this.”

He opened his eyes and kissed me back, lips open and panting with the pleasure of what he thought must have been the world’s best hand-job.

He continued: “But with all this effort to wake you, I hadn’t noticed the current. We had drifted down past the beachfront and over the headland; if we tried to swim in from here we’d be crushed against the rocks. I tried to swim against the current to get us back to the beach, but I just ended up swallowing water and exhausting myself.”

“Oh dear,” I said, worry lining my face. “I hope you’ve saved some energy for me.”

“Huh uh,” he shook his head. “With the last of my strength I haul myself up onto the board – on top of you – and the last thing I remember as I pass out is your legs sliding apart as my body slips between them.”

“So now we’re both unconscious?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

“In missionary position?” I asked.

“Kind of, yeah,” he smiled.

“And your cock is pressed up against my pussy?”

“Right again.”

“And by now we’re both covered in reef oil?”

“That sounds about right.”

I used my secret muscles to massage the few inches of iron inside me as I bobbed weightlessly up and down on his tool. That floating sensation – the contrast between the cold water and the hard, hot flesh sliding effortlessly into the warm, softness of my love canal – it all felt so surreal. I was holding my orgasm at bay, but I could feel it right there, waiting to lift me up and sweep me away the moment I allowed myself to be completely impaled on his wonderful cock.

“Keep going,” I whispered in his ear, my ragged breathing betraying the lie that I was still giving him a hand job.

“I don’t know how long I was out,” he resumed. “But I started to come-to with you moaning in my ear.”

I leaned in and moaned for effect – it wasn’t difficult – whimpering a little with the desperation to have more of him … all of him.

“Your moaning has made me hard though. I’m still waking up and as it grows bigger it’s pressing into your pussy, opening your lips and growing longer and harder still at finding you so wet and open and ready.”

“Are you saying you were accidentally fucking me?” I giggled.

“Completely unintentional!” he exhorted. “I had no idea I was inside you until we woke together; our eyes met in shocked surprise and you reflexively clenched, squeezing my dick.”

“Like this?” I asked, contracting my pelvic wall, pressing down against the delicious hardness inside me.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Except not with your hand.”

I smiled. “No, of course not.”

“I was stunned … and mortified … I quickly propped up on my elbows because I was crushing you, and you arched your back causing me to slip even further inside.”

“Oh God,” I moaned in a tiny, strained voice, my eyes shut. “It’s like I can feel you inside me now.” I allowed a tiny bit more of his thick, bulging manhood into my core, deeper than he been so far, but still only half of what he had to offer. Now I was all the way down to my left hand, which was still wrapped around the base, the thumb and middle finger not even close to meeting. I now had so much cock inside me that there was no room on his shaft for my other hand so I let go and used it rub my clitoris instead.

“Spike,” I whimpered “I think I’m going to come. Please hurry, I want you to fuck me now.”

Ever the gentleman, he assumed I meant the story and not the few remaining inches of cock, so thick at the base that I still wasn’t completely sure I could fit it all in.

“Right. So I’m just about to pull out …”

“Please, no,” I whispered.

“… when a swell nearly pitches us over. I grab on tight to the board, forcing myself deeper inside you …”

“But there’s still more, right. I need more of your cock. I need all of it!” I was nearly out of control now. We had set up a rhythm where I tightened around him with my secret muscles and then he flexed his cock, the knob bulging, doubling in size and probing tantalizingly deeper as it opened me up. Each time I felt like he would explode with cum, pumping his load into me before I could get him all the way inside, pressed up against the rear wall of my vagina into that special place where jetting cum will sometimes trigger my own cataclysmic ejaculation.

“I have no time to react,” he continued. “The next wave is right on top of us and it’s a choice of either ride it or let it knock us over.”

“I want to ride it,” I husked in his ear, sliding the first three and a half inches of his shaft out almost to the point of my lips closing over the tip, and then ramming down onto it again and again, my ankles locked behind his backside, driving me powerfully into the fisted hand that was the only thing preventing his complete conquest of my womanhood and the powerful orgasm that I felt was ready to engulf me. Did he really think this was still my hand; hot, soft and pliant, squeezing and enveloping three and half inches of thick cock so completely, causing it to buck and pulse against me, threatening to explode inside me at any moment? At this point I didn’t really care. The game was secondary and all I wanted was the perfect moment to release myself and to let him have all of me.

“The wave is big, one and a half meters, easy,” he was speaking in choppy sentences now; struggling for breath and trying to finish the story before he came. “I ride us up on top of it, your hard nipples pressing into my chest and pussy clamped around my cock in fear and excitement. We can’t drop down the face of the wave – we’d be smashed – and now I can see the next beach – it’s close – if I can only work us along the face of the wave we could get past the rocks and into the safety of the sand.”

“Yes. Take us home,” I breathed, my eyes shut now, imagining myself on top of the wave, crushed helplessly between his body and the surfboard with this thick cock pushing further into me, opening me up and threatening to fill me with his seed.

“I tip the board over the lip of the wave at the last moment, just as it’s beginning to curl and we cruise perfectly halfway down the face, side on to the wall of water with the lip now curling over the top of us, closing us in and threatening to pound our naked bodies into the rocks. We shoot out the barrel of the wave but now we’re going too fast. We’re going to lose the curl and fly off the back where the next wave will crash on top of us. I have to wash off speed, so I grip the sides of board and lean us first into the face, climbing to the top, and then away and back down again before we shoot over the top. You lock your legs behind me, holding me tight, but with each turn I slide most of the way out and then back in again with the counter-turn. I’m trying to surf, but you’re arching beneath me, pulling and straining to get me all the way in, to pin you to the board. I want to do it too, but controlling the board is taking everything I’ve got and I haven’t got much left to give.”

I had buried my face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, timing my thrusts with the cadence of his story, straining to hold back the tide of my orgasm as each downward stroke opened me up anew, filling me with hot, hard flesh as if for the first time, slowly losing the battle as my ragged exhales began to take on volume, soft squeaks of delight at first, but now becoming louder cries of abandon that I vainly tried to stifle against the hard muscles of his shoulder.

“We’re over the beach now, almost safe, and with the last of my strength I take us up the face one last time. But I’ve lost control; I try to turn us out and we almost make it, but we launch off the lip and take to the air, facing away from the beach at first but coming about as we fly; the nose of the board dipping and angling back down into the face. We fall from two meters above the crest, dropping with a force that would crush you, except we dive straight through the curl and round out on the swell below. The G-forces are too much; I prop my elbows to stop from crushing you, but I can’t control my hips, and as we shoot out in front of the crashing wave, finally gravity wins and I slide inexorably into you.”

“That’s the one. Thank you,” I cried, finally releasing my left hand and plunging desperately downwards, engulfing four inches, five inches, six, before my tiny, punished pussy convulses with spasms again, opened mercilessly by his unyielding shaft, my lips yawning so wide and stretched so tightly around the thickest part of his cock.

“Holy Jesus H. mother-fucking Christ,” he cried as my burning, straining, vagina engulfed all but the last of his seven inches of iron. “What the ….”

But I had no time to bring him up to speed. My orgasm was past the point of no return. Held at bay for so long I could feel it coming now, not to be turned back, not this time. My pussy was still contracting and I was powerless to move, clamped onto his pole with my muscles refusing to let go of their prize. But I didn’t want to let it go, I wanted the rest of it inside me before I was finally swept away, to feel his pubis grinding into mine, to feel his full length probe my innermost depths and push beyond them, just like his girth had already stretched my gaping labia beyond their usual limits.

Through clenched teeth I cried “Push!” as I arched my back and strained with arms and legs to capture that last, thickest, inch of manhood. He released my waist and closed his hands over my little bottom. Powerful muscles bunching in his arms, he obeyed my command, pushing and breaking my crushing hold on his shaft as that final, wonderful inch ploughed into my molten core.

I was coming. Rocking my hips and grinding against him, moving his huge tool around inside me, trying to stretch me and touch me in every direction at once while powerful waves of ecstasy blasted though the pleasure centres of my womanhood.

With three quick, powerful thrusts he pulled out of me and then rammed his shaft back home. On the last thrust I felt him swell again, his cock bulging massively inside me even though I was full beyond capacity. Cum rushed through his cock, flooding into me, bulging that huge vein on the underside of his dick. The first pump was blocked by the back wall of my pussy, mercilessly crushed against the tip of his erection. I arched back, changing the angle a little as he pumped again, this time emptying a huge, powerful stream of beautiful cum into the tight confines of my pussy, swirling back around his shaft and spilling though the junction where our pubic bones ground into each other.

With every pump of his powerful cock, another load of cum emptied into me and another explosion of pleasure rocked my body, now exhausted from the orgasmic release as I slowly began to relax and soften against his hard muscles of his upper body. With his cock still deep inside me and weakly pumping a few final bursts of cum, I raised my head and drew his lips down onto mine, kissing, searching out his tongue and then twining it in mine, nibbling at his lower lip while tears ran from my eyes and I thanked him in incomprehensible, breathless sobs.

He kissed back, murmuring his own gratitude, holding me tight against his body with one arm around my waist as he ran the other hand through my hair, finally breaking away from my lips and kissing along my jaw, my neck, and finally stopping with my earlobe pressed between his lips.

He held me silently for a few more moments, his cock had finally stopped pumping and I could feel it begin to soften inside me, then he whispered: “And then we rode through the foam all the way to the beach. The end.”

We both broke into laughter. “Hmmm,” I chuckled. “Weak ending. It’s lucky you delivered the goods in the accompanying actions.”

“How long did you …,” he began, not really knowing how to say it. “You know, did you have me … inside …”

“Pretty much the whole time,” I smiled, as I reached back to retrieve the bikini bottom tucked into my bra. “It was my hand at first. You couldn’t tell?”

“I did think it was a pretty amazing hand-job …,” he laughed as we both slipped back in to our bathers.

Changing subject, I asked “What’s all that white water out there?” pointing down the beach and out to sea maybe a kilometre.

“That’s Wedding Cake Island,” he said. “It’s just a big rock formation a couple of metres above the water. Even with the small waves it’s a bit of a washing machine at high tide, but it’ll be really romantic later on.”

“Why?” I asked. “Do the seals come in and fuck? Cos girls don’t really find that stuff romantic.”

“No, low tide is right on sunset tonight. Get it?” he said, as if that explained it.

“Is low tide especially romantic for surfers?” I probed further, eyebrows knotting.

“Low tide at sunset means full moon, right?” he said.

Does it? How would I know? “Right …” I said, a little dubiously.

“And where does a full moon rise?” He was leading me to the answer, but I couldn’t see it yet.

“In the sky?”

“In the east!” he explained. “And which way is the ocean in Sydney?”

“East!” I yelled, excited that I had finally answered one right. “So as the sun goes down over the city, the full moon will rise over the water, and we can watch it from the rocks of Wedding Cake Island because it’s low tide.” He smiled, proud that I had been listening, even if I hadn’t worked any of it out for myself. “How do you know all this?”

“People think surfers are dumb,” he said, “but if you want to be a professional surfer you need to be and amateur meteorologist and an amateur astronomer as well. And Wedding Cake is famous with surfers. It’s ANZAC day in a couple of weeks and all the Coogee surf community goes out for a commemoration.”

“Oh,” I said, disappointed. “So there’ll be a lot of surfers out there later?”

“Look around,” he said. “The surf’s terrible. There aren’t any surfers here now and I don’t think there will be later. Do you want to go out there?”

Me, Rupali and Spike; a secluded private island and the full moon rising over the ocean: oh yes, we were going out there. I leaned in close and whispered in his ear “I want you to take me out there.”

His shorts now sitting comfortably for once, we left the water and went back up the beach. Rupali had put her top back on, rolled over, and smeared Reef Oil all over her front until she glowed. Her sarong covered her eyes, but a smile still curled at the corners of her mouth.

~~~ TO BE CONTINUED ~~~