Story 4 #2
Now he would grab her ass. As she bent over him, it was pushed up in the air, and it was just too inviting for him.
He thought about his hands moving down to her thighs, feeling their wonderful softness. She'd shift her body over and straddle him, and his hands would then both move to her thighs, sliding up beneath them, finding her ass. She'd be wearing a G-string, and he'd be touching her, skin-to-skin, feeling the wonderful shape of her ass.
Then she'd be pulling at his T-shirt, and he'd have to take his hands away so that she could push it up over his head. She'd bend down over him, licking his chest. One of his hands would go back to her ass, and the other one would go to the back of her head, his fingers pushing through her hair.
Then the hand on her head would move around to her face, caressing it as she moved up to kiss him again, and then his hand would move down to her throat, down to her breast, taking hold of it, squeezing it through her dress, massaging it.
She’d raise herself up then, looking down at him. He’d feel the hardness of his cock pushing at his shorts, pushing against her crotch, and he’d think about how close he was, how close to being inside her.
She’d be able to feel that hardness as well. She’d be subtly grinding herself up against his cock, and it would be exquisite.
His hand would still be on her breast, but she’d take hold of it and remove it. She’d move the hand to her mouth, sucking on his fingers for a moment, before pushing it aside.
Then, she’d unhook the straps of her dress and start to pull it down. He thought about the anticipation as he watched her slowly pull down the dress, as her breasts revealed more and more of themselves to him, how they would suddenly come free, how beautifully shaped they’d be, how wonderful her dark nipples would look. She’d look down at him, a slight smile on her lips, enjoying his reaction. His hands would then slide up her waist, up to her breasts, taking hold of them, massaging them. His fingers would go to her nipples, taking hold of them and tweaking them. He thought about her moaning as he did this, how it would turn him on even more.
She'd bend down to kiss him, and then she'd move up the bed, pushing her breasts to his mouth, and he'd be sucking on them each in turn, his tongue flicking out at the nipples, making her moan even more, his cock throbbing more urgently.
He thought about one of her hands moving down his body, down to his shorts, undoing them.
She'd push them down, and then she'd be pulling his cock out, her hand wrapping around it, starting to jerk him off.
One of his hands would go beneath her dress then. This is it, he’d be thinking to himself. He was about to head into uncharted territory - at least for him.
He'd feel a moment of nervousness, of course. What if he did something wrong? But then he'd be pushing her underwear to one side, and his fingers would be right there, playing with her pussy. He'd feel how wet she was, and as he touched her there, he'd hear her moan, telling him that this was it, that this was just what she wanted.
He thought about playing with her, feeling her body gyrating against his touch, sucking on her wonderful breasts as she moaned, and then he’d be kissing her again, his mouth locked onto hers, her tongue greedy in his mouth, and then she’d be moving down his body, licking his chest, his stomach, and then she’d reach his cock, bending over it, looking up at him before turning her full attention to his throbbing member.
He thought about her hand wrapped around it, thought about her licking it, sucking on the sides. Then she'd take it in her mouth, and he'd watch it disappear past those lovely lips of hers. He thought about her head bobbing up and down as she sucked on it, how wonderful it would look, as well as how perfect it would feel.
Then, she’d straighten up, kneeling over him.
She’d pull her dress up over her head so that she was only wearing her G-string. He thought about how incredible her body would look.
Then she’d lie down on the bed, pulling up her knees and pushing her G-string down.
“My turn now,” she’d say softly.
He’d go to her then, between her legs, bending down to her pussy. He wondered how good it would look, what it would smell like. And then he wondered what it would taste like when his tongue went to work on it. He thought about her body writhing as her cries grew louder. Then, eventually, she would call on him to fuck her, begging him to stick his cock inside her.
He’d move up her body, still tasting her on his lips. He’d look down at her, panting, wanting him.
And then he’d push his cock inside her.
He imagined himself fucking her slowly, getting used to what he was doing, finding his rhythm. Then he'd start to pick up the pace. Her cries would be spurring him on, telling him that she wanted more, more of him, and he wouldn't be able to control himself. He'd be in a frenzy, fucking her harder, harder, his cock pounding away at her till he came, and that would be it. He would have finally done it. He would finally be a man. He thought about the torrent of cum shooting from him, filling her up as she cried out.
Then he would go to his knees and look down at her, feeling a sense of pride, achievement, and even wonder as he looked at the gorgeous woman that he had just fucked. He thought about his cum leaking from her pussy. He thought about her fingers going to it, picking some of it up, bringing it to her lips, and tasting it, tasting him.
And he would have plenty more of it for her, plenty more of his cum for her pussy, and more for her mouth if she wanted it as well. Now that he had finally done it for the first time, there would be no stopping him. He would grow in confidence, and his technique would improve with every fucking he gave her. He thought about how he would use her, how she would love every second of it, how she would leave the room exhausted, stumbling, barely able to believe it, when they were finally finished, and how he would lie there, lying back, triumphant, ready to go out into the streets, go to the bars, go anywhere where women might be and he'd find someone else, someone to have even more fun with. He had a feeling that once he had finally done it, there really would be no stopping him, and he couldn't wait for that moment.
But now, standing in the shower, his cock hard and throbbing, he came back to reality. He was still alone here. There hadn’t been any woman, no one had come back to his hotel room with him. It was no good to just live on his fantasies in this way. He had to get out there and make these things happen for himself.
It was tempting to jerk off in the shower to get some kind of relief, but he told himself that was not the way to go. Sure, it might give him some temporary relief, but it wasn’t what he really needed at this point. At this point, he wanted to go out into the world. He wanted to go and meet real women, and he wanted to make things finally happen for himself.
Feeling a sense of determination, he got out of the shower, dressed in shorts and a shirt, and headed out.
However, it seemed as though he had misjudged things slightly. He had been ready for a night of fun, moving between bars, trying to meet people. But it seemed as though the evening was only just getting started. The bars were still mostly empty. He wasn't sure what to do. Then, he heard the sound of the ocean. It occurred to him that he hadn't been to the beach yet, and a walk along the sand might be a good way to come up with some kind of strategy. He had left the hotel all fired up and ready for action; he had barely put any real thought into exactly how he was going to achieve what he wanted.
He headed out to the beach and started walking along it. There was a gentle breeze coming off the ocean that was cooling and helping to calm him down and clear his head.
He kept walking, lost in thought. He didn’t even realize at first that he’d left town behind him and that now all he could hear was the sound of the ocean.
Eventually, he stopped and turned back.
He could see the lights in the distance. He supposed that he should go back there, but he felt strangely reluctant to leave the peace of the beach behind.
Suddenly, as he looked back at the ocean, he noticed someone walking toward him.
The moon was full that night, and as she drew closer, he got a better look at her. He was stunned by the woman he saw. She looked as though she were in her mid-twenties, and she was incredibly beautiful. She looked as though she were a local Thai girl. She was about medium height, with light, almost pale skin. She was wearing a simple dress that managed to show off her incredible figure. Her legs weren't long, but they were wonderfully toned. She had lovely curves and a slender waist. Her breasts were large, incredible. Her face had a wonderful bone structure, delicate features with a small, button nose, high cheekbones, big, dark eyes with long lashes, and a sensual mouth with full lips. Her hair was black, thick, and cut shoulder-length.
She seemed as though she was lost in a world of her own as she walked along the beach, and he watched her as she came closer, wanting her, thinking that she didn’t seem real, as though she were some vision conjured up by his desire. She was carrying a towel in one hand.
But then she looked around and spotted him, breaking the spell somewhat. She let out a slight gasp, and then she seemed to smile to herself, as though she had come to some decision. She then continued walking in his direction, her casualness seeming almost an affectation.
“Hello,” she said when she got close to him, “what are you doing out here?”
It was so to the point that it took him slightly by surprise.
“Just out for a walk,” he shrugged.
“What’s your name?”
She tilted her head to one side. He told her his name. She told him her name was Carly.
“You like the ocean?” she asked him.