Once upon a time…
It was a dark and stormy night…
Some seriously weird shit was about to go down.
And that was the way she liked it.
They had been away from each other for too long. His first day back in town, he decided to plan a romantic evening for them: a walk on the beach, dinner at a fine restaurant, and then back home for some sensuous bow-chicka-bow-wow. She met him at the door wearing a flowing sun dress that accentuated her bodice and gently hugged her hips. His jaw dropped at the sight, and was momentarily befuddled, as he tried to stammer out compliments. For his part, he was wearing light, linen pants and a button-down shirt that bulged as his rippling pecs and biceps strained against the fabric.
It was all they could do to make their way out of the house without jumping each other. He watched her as she walked down the steps in front of him. He fixed his eyes on her posterior as she sauntered away. He loved to watch that ass jiggle and bounce – like two pit bulls fighting under a parachute.
The beach was not far away, and within minutes they were sinking their feet into the hot sand and heading towards the cool, crashing surf. Prior to getting there, they were nearly knocked over by a large, playful dog that was loping around the beach. At one point, it sat down and began licking its privates fervently.
“I bet you wish you could do that,” she said coyly.
He smiled. “I suppose I would,” he replied, “but you’ll have to hold him down for me.”
She wasn’t certain whether he was making a joke, and quickly decided to drop the subject. Instead, they strolled by the dog and reached the wet sand at the beach. For the next couple hours, they dipped their toes in the surf and caught up on what each other had missed while they were apart. As the sun began to get lower in the sky, they decided it was time to go to dinner.
The restaurant was on a pier that extended into the sea, and they made their way towards it. As they approached the restaurant, he quipped, “Is it low tide at the pier, or are you just happy to see me?”
She was amused by his question, and responded coyly, “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
She stopped and turned to him, drawing him close. He hiked up the front of her skirt and gently kneaded the front of her soaking wet panties. After a few minutes of repeatedly bringing her to the brink of a rapturous orgasm, he pulled his fingers away and put them to his nose.
“Both, it would appear,” he remarked.
Thoroughly aroused now, she nearly forgot about the fact that she was hungry. Her mind began to play out scenarios for the rest of the evening, and scarcely even noticed as they reached the restaurant. He had called ahead for reservations, so there was no wait, and they were soon seated.
As they perused the menu, she teased him by seductively licking the rim of her water glass. Her tongue danced over its surface like a frog on a hotplate. For his part, he had kicked off his sandals, and was massaging the inside of her taut thigh with his foot.
“I’m trying to decide between the tacos, the fish pie, and these bearded clams. Any suggestions?” He asked mock-seriously.
“No,” she smiled back at him, “but I think either the sausage or some man chowder would match perfectly with whatever you choose.”
The sexual tension only built over the course of dinner, and once the bill was paid, they raced to the car. They were all over each other the moment the car doors closed. Their tongues darted in and out of each other’s mouths, and their hands feverishly groped the other’s body. He had pitched a tent and yearned to add his log to her fire until she begged for s’more. However, as they were in a well-lit, busy parking lot, they dared not go any further, and relented only long enough to make the short drive home.
She fumbled with her keys in the lock, desperately wanting to get in the door. Finally her hands cooperated, the lock’s tumblers turned, and the door swung open. Wasting no time, they headed straight to the bedroom. They ravenously tore their clothes off, and before he had a chance to initiate anything, she went down on him like a hobo on a bottle of fortified wine. The moans and groans she heard echoing through the bedroom assured her that she was doing a fine job engulfing his giant meat lollipop.
As much as she loved foreplay, it had been far too long, and she desperately needed him inside her. She pushed him back onto the bed, and straddled him. In one smooth motion, she sank her whisker biscuit onto his groin ferret, moaning passionately as she did so. She took his full length, and began to slowly grind up and down on him. Her pace quickened as he tugged and twisted her nipples and made teasing circles with his thumb on her clit. She arched her back as a rapturous orgasm overtook her body, and then collapsed on the bed next to him.
That was merely the beginning of her orgasms that evening. Knowing she wasn’t done for the night, he got on his knees in front of her, and positioned her so her feet curled around his neck, so it looked like he was wearing her as a lobster bib. Then he eased forward and sailed his skin boat to tuna town.
She was totally into him right now (and vice versa, so to speak). If absence makes the heart grow fonder, she was having a hard time describing what it did to her salami garage. Suddenly, their romantic mood was interrupted by a sharp sound. Then another. And then another. Air was caught in her vagina, and with every thrust came another queef. She was both amused and embarrassed at the same time. Then she felt him break from his rhythm and began thrusting seemingly haphazardly, all the while the queefing continued. She looked at him and saw him smiling broadly, and it didn’t take long for her to understand why.
Incredulously, she sputtered, “The theme from Beverly Hills Cop! Seriously?”
“What can I say,” he beamed. “You inspire the artist in me.”
After a few head shakes from her, and a brief laugh from him, he pulled out so they could discover a new position that would put an end to their melody. He brought her up to her knees to enter her from behind. He rubbed his purple-headed yogurt slinger along her gully-hole, teasing her with it. Not to be outdone, she reached back and began to buff her clitoris. Another orgasm wracked her body as he entered her, and it took all her effort to remain on her knees. Her orgasm continued as he assaulted her pink velvet sausage wallet. As the last of her multiple orgasms ebbed, he pulled out again and nudged his meat thermometer at her anus.
She felt sheepish at first, but immediately realized he wasn’t horsing around. He was stubborn as a mule, as he had tried this many times before, but she was never ready for it. This time could be a first for them, and she resisted the urge to be a chicken. To assure him she wanted it this time, she reached back for his cock and began to pull it towards her waiting hole. At first he thought she was trying to kid him, but it wasn’t long that he realized she wasn’t full of bull. She steered him toward her ass and delicately eased it in. The initial sting passed quickly, and she was surprised at how wonderful it felt. Her fingers once again found her clit, and she was in hog heaven. As she felt another climax building, she began bucking her hips like a wild bronco. Another orgasm overcame her, and her body shuddered from her pussy to her calves. Her orgasm began to fade as his began to build, and despite being dog tired, she was happy as a pig in slop.
Wanting to shoot his load on her smooth buttocks, he had pulled out his custard launcher right before he came. However, his orgasm was so powerful that it overshot her ass, her back, and even her head, hitting the floor on the opposite side of the bed.
Jumping up with a pumping fist and exuberant victory cry, he got out the measuring tape to measure the distance. “80 inches,” he remarked proudly.
She wasn’t certain whether she should be impressed. “Well,” she thought, “at least it didn’t get in my hair.”
He got back into bed beside her and cradled her in his arms. And with that, she drifted off to sleep, sated…and anxious to see what they could do to top it tomorrow.
