Laying naked on the deck chair of her Santa Barbara hillside home overlooking the blue Pacific Ocean, Monica thought about all the men she had had to fuck to get here. Her golden tanned body, although not as firm as it had been ten years earlier in her teens, was still every mans idea of the perfect woman. Her long graceful neck blended into the wide muscular shoulders she had developed in her youth as a competitive swimmer. The fall of her pert breasts still pointed up, ending in rosy areola and eraser hard nipples that lengthened to nearly half an inch when she was aroused, as she was now. At her waste she became impossibly thin before widening back out to long slender hips that supported an ass that you could pound all night. She gave the appearance of being tall, even though she was really only 5'7", her slender form and long legs made her appear much taller. But the thing you noticed first about Monica were her eyes. Set in a face you couldn't quite place but seemed somehow familiar and beautiful, Monica's eyes shinned the deep green of the Caribbean ocean. The total effect was simply stunning. Every man she had ever known had wanted to sleep with her. She was still a child when her mother taught her that a woman's real strength was in her power to control men.
Monica had learned early that her body could get her what she wanted. Entry to the right crowd, parties, jewelry and eventually money. Lots of money.
She had come to Santa Barbara State University on a swimming scholarship but quickly realized it was easier to fuck the coach than go to practice. By her second year no one even knew she was on the team, but her full-ride scholarship was safe as long as she occasionally made herself available to the head coach. Since Jack was a good-looking guy, whom she might have dated anyway, except he was married and in his forties, she didn't really mind.
In the fall of her junior year the coach asked Monica to join him and some friends on one of the alumnus's sailboat for a weekend trip up the coast. The boat ran nearly 70 feet and took a crew of 4 to operate. Monica met jack at the docks and was soon introduced to Tiffany and Brian. The group set out and set sail up the coast. Quickly learning that most of the hard work in sailing was in getting out to sea and into the wind the girls retreated to the stern to get some sun while the men took turns at the helm. It turned out that Brian was not really Tiffany's boyfriend but a regular at the club where she was an exotic dancer.
At dinner that night Brian talked about the Internet business he had started then sold just before the bubble burst. He was spending most of his time now near the ocean taking it easy. That night Monica set her sights on Brian and within three monthsthey were married. Nine months later, following a nasty divorce involving video of Brian with another woman and a secret envelope of evidence showing his involvement in a bogus internet swindle, Monica left with three million dollars.
With this bankroll Monica could afford to spend her time at the hangouts of the rich and famous. In days past and maybe still today for some this would have meant Paris, Florence, Vienna or the beaches of San Trope. But today's easy money is in Miami. Where hip-hop and fashion mix into a modern kaleidoscope of sex drugs and salsa music. This is where the beautiful people hang out. Where the best restaurants don't even open until 9:00 pm and most people make reservations between eleven and three AM. The clubs go until dawn followed by breakfast and samosa's by the pool.
Now feeling the hot sun on her breasts and softly rubbed more oil over them. Watching the ocean always made her horny. The rhythm of the waves and the powerful crashing surf made her feel like she was being taken against her will. Swept up and unable to control herself she poured a good amount of oil on her stomach and moved her hand through it down to the golden triangle between her legs. Feeling the squish-squish of her fingers playing softly against her clit made her shutter. Like always Monica didn't care how she got off, men, women, or by herself, it all let to the same place. Truth be told, she preferred masturbating to fucking just because she had complete control over the outcome and the effort required. Too often men wanted to quit as soon as they got their rocks off even though she was just getting warmed up. Women always wanted some emotional attachment and seemed so desperate to connect. Spreading her legs wide Monica rubbed the oil harder against her clit and probed her now slick love tunnel with two fingers. Reaching her other hand underneath herself she lightly rubbed the oil into her tightly puckered asshole. This was how she liked it best and she knew it would only take a minute or two for her to reach orgasm. Turning the two fingers up to rub her G spot while her thumb rotated around her now stiff clit she sank the middle finger of her other hand deep into her ass. Exploding into the ecstasy of orgasm her body quivered for several seconds until slowly allowing her hands to slip free and relax at her sides.
