So where are you? You are on a deserted beach in the middle of a scorching afternoon. Waves are lapping gently against the shore in the distance, caressing the sand. You notice that the tickling sound of the tiny breakers is chiming with a rhythm in your own body. Yes, the mystery woman behind you - because you're in no doubt at all that she is a woman, though you daren't look back just in case she turns out not to be - the mystery woman behind you is pressing her fingers into you in time with the waves. You lucky girl: you are in sync with nature.
It occurs to you from her gentle thrusts that you've never had anything quite so deep inside you. You've never had a cock go this far, in fact in this story you've never had a cock in your ass at all. You don't understand how her fingers can reach so far in, as they can't be that long. Maybe it's the way you're ramming your rump backwards to swallow every last millimetre of those two fingers as they glide in and out of you. The pleasure is indescribable. So new, so full of surprise. You never suspected this part of you had such a delectable secret. Of course it took a woman to find it. No man would ever know.
If anyone could see you now from the side - though god knows you wouldn't want that to happen - what would find before them? a girl with her head on its side, shoved into a towel, her inverted back curling upwards towards the sky, legs half splayed, and the crowning glory, two glistening hills of flesh rising above the sand. If the tide came in now, the rest of you would be swamped but there'd be an island of oily ass gleaming out of the water.
You know you mustn't look. But can you touch? Can you touch - if not the other person - then yourself? You bring your right arm out from under you and slowly send a hand backwards towards a place it knows how to touch. This is going to be a big moment. You can't wait for your mysterious new friend to help you out, so you are cutting to the chase. You're going to help yourself. You're going to take advantage of yourself.
Just as your fingers reach the edge of the trimmed thatch of pubes, something happens that you weren't expecting. Those fingers, so seductively slipping in and out of your asshole, are suddenly removed. The sensation as they are pulled out so sharply makes you catch your breath. And squirm.
You're so taken aback that your right hand stops where it is, before it reaches its destination. What the hell's going on? you were enjoying that. You were loving it. You're just about to send a single middle finger down again when you feel a hand grabbing hold of your wrist, quite firmly, and sending it back to where it started. There seems to be no argument with this. You've been banished. Whoever this woman is behind you, she doesn't want to interfere. If anyone's going to give you pleasure, it's her.
It could be worse. Frustrating, yes. You are - frankly - desperate for your pussy to be touched by someone, anyone. But it can't be put off forever. You know it's coming some time soon. And in the mean time there's another surprise for you.
She's feeling around your asshole again. You've never felt more relaxed there after the gentle widening the stranger has performed on you. But you can feel more oil being poured into your crack. More oil? Why more? it feels like there's been a spill down there already. This time it's less ceremonious, less flirtatious. And there's more of it. A lot more. It feels like half the bottle is being emptied onto you. Into you. Some of it dribbles uninterrupted down the sides of your pussy and some of it drizzles speculatively over the little ribs and ravines of your pussy. As if it needs it. But the bulk of the oil is reserved for your asshole, which with two fingers she is actually holding open. She is literally pouring oil into you. You can feel the burning heat of it seeping in.
What can she be up to?
You pluck up the courage to move your head ever so slightly and out of the corner of an eye, half open in the sun's glare, you catch an arm, brown and slender, the brief flash of a thin silver bracelet. It matches the one of her ankle, you think. But then you have to shut your eyes, and not because of the sun.
It's a shock when a third finger is introduced. This time it's tight. No question. You feel the scrape of a fingernail against your insides as she pushes a new thickness very very very slowly inside you. As a bunch of knuckles meet the muscles at the opening of your ass, you can feel them quiver in protest. This is pain. But not bad pain. Good pain. It's exquisite pain. Pain that's almost impossible to tell apart from pleasure.
For the first time since this extraordinary new thing happened to you, you make a sound. It's almost as if you haven't been breathing, and now as a fingernail delicately scratches against the roof of your insides, you can't help it. Wordlessly, you squeal. Oh my god. You never knew that such a delicate touch, the merest scrape, could send such a shockwave round your system. You can almost feel the nail in your throat as the touch deep inside your reverberates through your body. You shiver. It may be hot, you may be hotter than you've ever been. But just for a moment you shiver uncontrollably.
And now the three fingers start to move. Harder than the two fingers earlier. The emphasis is not on pushing them in, but pulling them out, so that with every motion you feel as if you're about to be turned inside out, to have some inner part of yourself drawn forth. It feels like a form of violation, but one you never knew you wanted. The pain is now forgotten as the slippery motion of this clump of fingers gets quicker. And that's not all that's forgotten. It's such a massive, all-conquering feeling that - miracle of miracles - you've forgotten all about your pussy.
This is too much. You can't hold it in. You start to moan.
But it's not some little girly moan. It's not high-pitched. This moan comes right from the pit of your stomach. You can feel it working its way up from the bottom of your lungs: a deep exhalation of breath with just a ghost of a sound to it.
