After that Wednesday hum-job in a top-down hummer, I was as addicted to Lizzy's lips as she was addicted to sliding them down a shaft.
We both made our escape before somebody called the cops on us and that gave me the rest of the day to just bask in the glow. All day, at the gym, client after client, I'm sure I was wearing a stupid grin.
Not even Carly, the married sex maniac -- and my boss -- could knock me out of the post-public blowjob stupor that Liz left me in. The fact that it was Lizzy's lips on my brain, rather than Carly tits (that were right next to me) was testament to how fascinating Lizzy really was.
Suddenly, inspiration: what would be the right setting to dive deeper into the mystery of Lizzy?
#
I called her on Thursday. "Hey, you got plans this weekend?"
"Well, I, uh... nothing urgent. What do you want to do?"
"I want to get to know you better. Beach camping: you and me. Whole weekend."
"Beach camping?"
"Yeah! Tent, surf, sand... like a picnic with seagulls. Got a swim suit?"
"Um, wow!"
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes!"
#
That Friday, I picked her up after work and had her pack for a beach weekend. We drove up to a secluded little beach just south of Ventura and set up a tent in the dunes.
Nobody else around, we had fun in the water. She put on a bikini that was meant to impress... and it did. Sure, the boobs were modest (though nice), but her legs and ass were absolutely amazing. She'd sculpted herself into the perfect balance between slender femininity and toned athleticism.
We ran around the dunes, in and out of the water... and she could keep up. I know she was pretty disciplined about working out, and I remember her talking about running 5Ks, and this was a good reminder.
Also, she had this habit of running her fingers under her butt cheeks. Almost a self-grab, but not quite. It seemed like it was an unconscious thing, like she was adjusting the backs of her panties, even when she wasn't wearing any. It always drew my gaze right to her ass... and I think she liked that.
As it got dark. I started a campfire. We roasted hot dogs and made s'mores. Cheesy, yeah, but it was fun.
That night, the onshore wind rocked us. The tent was anchored fine, but it sounded dramatic and it had us sharing my two-person bedroll.
She climbed in and I spooned her, and it was all quiet for about two minutes. Then...
"So how many other girls have you had in this 2-person bag?"
I scratched my head. "Um... none, actually. I just bought it."
"Oh... How many other girls do you think you'll have in it?"
I bit the back of her neck. "Are you jealous already?"
"Maybe."
"I don't know. The idea of a beachside menage-a-trois sounds pretty good."
She started laughing. "Oh, my God. I can't believe I asked that -- and that you answered."
"Was it the answer you were expecting?"
"Honestly... no."
I reached down between her thighs -- and she was damp. Warmth was radiating from her. "I think, what you need, is a dose of dick to remind you of what's important..."
She raised a leg, though she could only go so far in the bedroll.
From my smart-ass comment to her just raising a slender leg as her answer, I was instantly hard. A second later, I was sliding my shaft along her wet sex. A deep breath from both of us, and I was inside her.
She closed her eyes as I started a rhythm.
Fuck. This girl! I was being a smart-ass and I expected her to give me a slap or something. Instead, she took it at face value, as if I was some well-practiced dominant. Nope. Thinking about it, though, that meant she was probably a natural submissive.
I didn't usually go for submissive girls. I went for the fiery redheads, full of fight and bite. But not this time. This time, I was falling hard for a plain-cutesy brunette. An absolutely slutty brunette.
The number came floating back: 32 boyfriends. 33 including me? 32 guys had fucked this pussy before and suddenly... this was the hottest pussy ever.
Of course, she'd also cheated on every single one of those boyfriends... by going down on some random guy.
Yeah, my girlfriend was a slut. A really cute slut.
Yeah, if I was honest with myself, my relationship "fate" was just as sealed as those other guys. She was going to cheat on me, too.
I was over-thinking this.
I closed my eyes and pushed all the complexities out. A deep breath... and a slow thrust. Pulling back, then pushing again. All wet and warm...
It was meditation.
After a minute, there was nothing but the sensation of sliding in and out of this well-used pussy. So fucking good...
She was breathing heavy, heavy enough for me to hear her over the howling wind.
I nodded to myself. She enjoyed it. Good.
I needed to give this slutty pussy a dose of me. Oh, quick update: she was on the pill.
Thought about that, too, as I pictured other guys fucking this little cutie.
I was thinking about it again, but it was working this time. In my head, she was a chipmunk-cheeked amateur porn star. 32 home-made videos played in my head... and you just know most of them got more than one shot.
This perfect, inviting pussy... nestled between those killer legs...
That moment of tension, my balls tightened, and a deep breath later, I shot my jizz deep.
Her eyes flickered open, then snapped back shut as her body shuddered against mine.
I leaned in, my lips touching her ear, and whispered: "You are awesome."
We fell asleep like that: tangled together, me inside her.
#
The next morning, I had scrambled eggs and coffee going on the camp stove before she woke up. Still a breeze, and it carried the aroma right into the tent.
She was out a minute later in a beach robe.
Small talk as she took in the beach in the morning light. Then a cup of coffee, and a plate of eggs, then a pause...
She sipped her morning joe as the seagulls flew overhead. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"This?" She gestured toward the tent and the breakfast. "This is really cool! But you actually know I'm a slut, and it never lasts."
"Why is that? Think I'm going to get my fill and go?"
"Yes." She stared at me over the rim of her cup. "Or my slut side will take over, and I'll cheat, and then you'll go."
"Will it?"
She didn't answer, sipping her coffee instead. She finally spun around, exasperated. "I don't want to, but I've cheated on every boyfriend I've ever had."
"Yeah, I remember. We had this conversation. Usually around the two-three month mark. Are you going to cheat on me?"
"No!" She took a deep breath. "But if I'm honest, I've said that before. Three months in, I don't... I don't have control anymore. So... yes?"
"If you actually said 'no' and stuck to it, I would've doubted you. I appreciate the honesty."
"I'm glad. I just wish..."
"What?"
"That I could be, you know..."
"Faithful?"
She nodded, self-conscious.
I took a bite of eggs, and I was still chewing when the words came to me. "Live in the moment, Liz. Let's pretend I don't have feelings for you. Let's pretend this is just an extended one-night stand. Sex on the beach is still better than somebody's apartment at two in the morning, isn't it? It'll make a nice memory, won't it?"
She nodded. "It makes a memory that makes other memories kinda wither away."
"Thanks." Behind me, the seagulls squawked over the surf. "I'm glad you're having a good time."
"I am. That's why I kinda hate myself right now."
"Because how strong that three-month itch'll be?"
She looked away, her eyes a little glassy.
I set down my plate and came up behind her, draping an arm over her shoulder. "Remember that 'dirty talk' you liked so much in the Starbuck parking garage?"
She rolled her eyes, blushing. She gave me a little side-eye as she answered. "Yes. You want to know something?"
"What?" I shrugged.
She bit her lip. "I masturbated, like five times, to those words."
"Good," I chuckled. "You know how hot it is to hear that? You know how much I want to see my dick sliding between your chipmunk cheeks, right now?"
She giggled, still blushing. "I think I can help you with that."
"I want to see a lotta things with you..."
She looked up at me, the "big eyes" turned on again. "Really?"
"Can't really do that if we break up."
"It's not like I'm breaking up with... I'm just..."
"Sucking some other guy's cock."
"Sucking some other guy's cock," she repeated.
I brushed the windblown hair out of her eyes. "So, 32 boyfriends, and you've sucked 32 dicks to say goodbye?"
"I was NOT breaking up with them! I was just... sucking another dick."
"The guys you sucked off... was it ever the same guy?"
She shook her head.
"So 32 different other guys?"
She nodded.
"To be a fly on the wall."
"Huh?"
"I wish I could've watched every single one."
She blushed a little.
"So, I'm boggled that every single guy you've gone out with has broken up with you over a wayward blowjob. Doesn't anybody forgive and forget anymore?"
"Right?!" She held out her hands.
"So, I'm guessing they were threatened. Probably a confidence thing."
She gestured to herself. "Over me? Are they crazy?"
"Okay, Miss Ass of Magnificence; stop." I took another bite of eggs and used the pause to compose shit that she needed to hear. "I know you get off on a little sexual humiliation. I can't imagine the buttons it pushes in you, but I'm starting to pick up the vibe and it's the weirdest boner thinking of tiny, kinky ways to embarrass my girlfriend. Even there, though, there's a line..."
"Like a 'don't cross this' kind of line?"
"Yeah. Thank you. We need a little straight talk, okay?"
She blinked like mad, suddenly standing at attention. "Okay?"
"First of all, you're a good person. You're warm, compassionate, creative..."
"Thank you?"
"Second, you're pretty. You know that, right?"
"Umm..." She did the hands-under-the-butt-cheeks thing again. Damn if that wasn't just the cutest, weirdest little gesture.
"Third, you just gestured to yourself like a 'before' picture. You're what, a size six?"
Her head snapped a little. "Holy shit, I've never met a guy that even knew what that was!"
"Personal trainer, babe! Girls come in and tell me all the time: 'hey, I'm a 14, but I really need to get down to a 6 before we start shooting. Can you do that?'"
"They want to get to my size?"
"Yes!"
"I want to be a size zero."
"Grass is always greener."
"My boobs would look better on a size 0."
