On the Beach, Part 12

Previous episodes.

After the unexpected tryst with Chuck and Bridget we went shopping. Avril led me from one quaint shop to the next and I attracted attention everywhere I went. I was learning that if a woman wants to feel like a sex-goddess, all she needs to do is to do everything completely naked.

I chose a few dresses that I especially liked, a new bikini, and a few more casual outfits. I protested at the price tags but Avril continue to urge me to buy. Lingerie, sexy jeans, tops and sandals — the whole nine. I felt spoiled, and guilty.

“It’s too much,” I said.

“No, revel in this moment. You are becoming a new Tara, you can at least have some new clothes.”

The irony that I was shopping entirely naked wasn’t lost on me. I carried shopping bags with cute outfits but I was bare from tit to toe. The shop girls definitely gave me the eye, giggling and whispering behind their hands.

“Is this a feminist statement?” one young woman asked me.

“More like an art project,” I said, using Avril’s line from earlier.

“Don’t you feel unsafe?” another woman asked while I was checking out.

“Yes, rather,” I said.

Literally every man I’d passed today probably wanted to fuck me, and some of them were not good men.

“You’re very brave,” she said, ringing up a flimsy top that cost more than it should but was cute as sin. “I worry when my skirt’s too short, but here you are completely naked. Like it’s no big deal.”

On our way home I commented to Avril on the experience. I was getting used to the nudity, the feeling exposed, the stares and the snapshots.

“I didn’t expect to meet so many people this way,” I said.

Avril nodded. “Clothing is a barrier against the world. It quite literally is, if you think about it. By going naked you’ve opened yourself to them. Nudity is the state you’re in during the intimate moments, when the walls come down. It encourages others to join your intimacy, in good and bad ways.”

I thought of Chuck and Bridget, strangers who had shared a sexual moment with me. They would never have given me a second look if I hadn’t been nude. The comments, lewd and thoughtful, were only directed to me because I’d bared myself, let myself be vulnerable to them.

“Yes,” Avril said, smiling as we climbed the steps to the flat. “You’re learning very quickly.”

“Also, thank you so much for buying all of the things. I will pay you back soon.”

“No, these things were to help you feel beautiful, and I don’t want money in return. But they’re not gifts, per se. You will earn these privileges.”

We had lunch on the balcony with a view of the sea. I didn’t bother to dress, and Avril joined me by taking off her clothes as well. She was really something: curvy and magnificent. We ate, talked, and the afternoon drew on.

“It’s time for my client,” she said.

I’d forgotten that Avril gave blowjobs to an exclusive list of men in exchange for money. She hugged me, and kissed me tenderly on the cheek. Then she tweaked a nipple, making me yip.

“Dear Tara, you were splendid this morning, and I’m very turned on by you right now. So brave, so bright. You’re a perfect student. If it weren’t for the no-orgasm rule I’d eat your pussy for days on end.”

In my hyper-aroused state, her words made me heady. “I’d like that,” I said, thrumming. “But there’s no rule against me giving you an orgasm, is there?”

Avril laughed, genuinely amused. “There is not such a rule.”

“Well, spread those thighs, pretty lady,” I said, getting down on my knees on the rough tiles.

“Mmm, I would love to, but I’m running short on time.”

“Oh. Shit. I’ll make it quick.”

“Tara, I’m not sure I have time…”

“Five minutes, I swear it,” I said, urging her to sit back down.

“You’re very bossy for someone who claims not to be sexually aggressive,” she said as I parted her thighs and dove in.

To be honest, I’d never gone down on a woman before, but I felt confident that I knew the territory well enough I could get her off. Her pussy was lush, her labia fat and succulent, her scent rich and earthy. I started at her root, my tongue dipping into her well, gathering her syrup. Avril grabbed hold of my head and pulled me against her cunt, sighing. I flicked and rolled my tongue over her clitoris, suckling it gently. She squirmed. I pushed two fingers into her, fingers and tongue working together in wet harmony.

“Oh, Tara, that’s wonderful,” she moaned. “But I don’t have time.”

“Please, Avril,” I begged. “I can do this.”

“If you want me to come quickly, it’s not going to be like this,” she said.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me to the couch, practically tossing me down and clambering on top of me. In a moment she straddled my face and pressed her cunt down, smothering me. I was drowning in her juices. My tongue, my lips seemed almost useless as she ground her hips down. She literally fucked my face, using me for friction, drenching me in her juices. I stared up her front, watched her breasts sway and her eyes pinch shut in sheer concentration on her own pleasure. I could barely breathe. I did my best to kiss her, lap at her cunt, but I felt my ministrations were secondary. Avril knew what she needed, and she was taking it the way she wanted it.

I was helpless and dizzy as she ground down on me. Everything once again melted into cunt, except this time it was hers: in my mouth, over my nose, smothering me, fucking me. It reminded me of drowning. I was helpless pinned between Avril’s hips.

She grabbed my hair, and pressed her hips down harder. She ground her pubes on me, finding friction on my chin and against my nose. I moaned, uncomfortable but wanting her to finish. Avril crumbled with a cry. She started shaking, and moaning, and she kept grinding, and then… I felt her pussy. I felt it twitching against my lips, my tongue. I’d never known another woman’s orgasm. I felt so in sync with her that I could almost feel her contractions in my own body.

Avril lay gasping for minutes, and then climbed off of my face.

I smiled. I glistened with her. “Well, that just happened,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Tara,” Avril said, hastening to the bathroom. “I’m already late and I had to use you a bit to get myself off.”

“That’s what I wanted,” I said.

“I can get a bit rough,” she shouted from the bathroom.

“I’m not complaining,” I said.

“You can eat me out properly when I have more time, and I’ll return the favor,” she said.

“I’ll put it on the calendar.”

Dressed and prettied up, Avril kissed my forehead on the way out.

“Thanks for the orgasm, Tara. You’re a good sport.”

And she was out the door.

On the Beach, Part 11

Previous episodes.

Next we visited a cramped bookstore that smelled like old leaves. There was a black-and-white cat roaming the place, and it rubbed itself against my calves. The sensation of that soft, long fur was almost unbearable in my heightened state. I picked out a leather-bound journal with rough-edged pages. I liked the weight and size of it. It felt right in my hand. The owner of the store was a skinny, older man with little hair left. He watched us with a disapproving frown as we browsed and then purchased a journal.

“He doesn’t approve,” I said to Avril.

“Yes, but he keeps sneaking glances at you,” she replied.

“I wonder why?” I said sarcastically.

“Maybe because you’re completely naked,” she said with a laugh.

We were just about to leave when a couple approached us. I guessed that they were my age, or a bit older. The guy had dark hair, kind, blue eyes and a bit of scruff on his cheeks. She was petite, cute and red-haired, with a winning smile.

“Hi, I’m Chuck,” the guy said. He shook hands with me and Avril, as did the girl. “This is my girlfriend Bridget.”

“You’re from the States?” I said.

“Canada,” he said.

They looked like the outdoorsy type.

“I’m sorry,” Chuck said. “I don’t mean to bother you ladies, but I’m just really impressed with how much guts it takes to walk around naked.”

“Thanks,” I said with a grin. “I’m kinda impressed with myself right now.” I laughed. I sounded nervous.

“Honestly,” Bridget said, grinning. “Exhibitionism is something that Chuck and I have been talking about now for a long time.”

“Really?” Avril said, brushing back a strand of purple hair from her forehead. “You may be our kind of people.”

“Well, we go nude a lot at home,” Bridget said brightly. She was a bit too chipper for my liking, but nice enough. “And we’ve done some nude beaches, and stuff like that. And a few sex parties.”

“It’s just refreshing to see somebody just out in the world, letting it all hang out. And you look amazing, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I said. I could tell that he wanted me.

“We’re doing a little training of Tara here,” Avril said.

“Training?”

“Yes, I’m breaking down her socialization in a process that will reduce her to her essence, which is to be a Vessel.”

“Oh, so it’s like a 50 Shades thing?” Bridget asked.

Avril frowned. It was the first time I’d seen her disapprove of something.

“Think of it like a spiritual awakening,” Avril said. “When we’re done with her, Tara will embrace her essential cunthood. And with that she’ll find freedom.”

The corner of Bridget’s lip frowned slightly when Avril said the word ‘cunt’. I judged her for that, taking it to mean that she wasn’t as free-spirited as she pretended to be. But then again, I was an bundle of repression, so who was I to judge?

“I’m a little jealous of you,” Bridget said to me, glancing at Chuck for assurance.

The shop-owner glared at us, but said nothing.

“I don’t want to be too forward, but do you mind if we get a few pictures with you?”

Chuck got close on one side and Bridget (rather shorter than me) on the other side. Both of them put an arm around my back, as one does in pictures, only it seemed strange to have Chuck’s hand was on my naked hip. And it turned me on, the incongruity of it, and the warmth of Bridget’s little body, and the rough fabric of their clothes against my very smooth skin. Avril snapped a few photos with Chuck’s phone.

It was all quite simple until Bridget touched me. Her hand reached out, fingertips resting on my abdomen. The touch was electric. I was already tuned so tightly I felt like all my strings might break. I let out a deep sigh, and felt a bundle of inhibitions escape. She just rested her hand on my bare belly, just above my curls. There was nothing sexual about it, but everything sexual about it.

She gazed up at me with her pale blue eyes. Chuck pulled me a little closer to him. They both smelled like marajuana and a little unwashed. Natural.

It was a moment of stillness. We were all frozen. I could hear my heartbeat. Avril stood and watched, and now the shopkeeper wasn’t even pretending to ignore us. He still frowned, but his full attention was on the four of us. There were no other customers.

“Is this okay?” Bridget said. Her hand trembled like a little bird away from its nest. Oh, and I knew just where that bird belonged.

I took a deep breath and glanced at Avril.

“You may touch her,” Avril said. “Both of you may.”

I shuddered. Oh, how I wanted to be touched.

Bridget smiled. “It’s cute how you have a minder.”

I nodded, but I was breathing fast, aching for Bridget’s fingers to seek my aching nub.

Chuck leaned in and cupped a breast in his palm, moaning slightly. He pinched my nipple and I let out a sharp sigh. So sensitive, so aching for attention.

Avril glanced at the shop-keeper. He watched silently, always frowning, but showed no signs of booting us out or calling the authorities.

“Put your arms over your head,” Avril said in a kind but commanding tone. “Let them explore you.”

I did as she said. Elongating my body made every aching sensation immediately more intense. I let out a low moan.

Explore they did. Bridget, after making the first move, proved to be a bit shy at first. She traced her small fingers over my torso, gradually braving the curls on my mound. I stood still, all of my attention on her touch, aching for her to seek between my legs. My stomach undulated with her every move, my hips gently pressing toward her hand, trying to show her the way. Chuck focused on my breasts, kneading and teasing, pulling on my nipples which made me writhe. He kissed my neck, and then kissed down my chest until his lips found my breasts. He mouthed my tits, sucking the hard nipples and massaging them with his tongue. I let out a shuddering moan. So wet, so ready for more.

Bridget watched my face as her hand moved lower, as she ran her fingers through the curls on my mound. Her eyes were soft. She looked delighted. Her finger dipped between my labia. Every nerve tingled and I almost lost it. I groaned and heard her sharp gasp. Her cheeks were flushed. She was aroused, too.

“You’re really wet,” she said in a voice made deeper with lust.

I glanced at the shop-keeper. He leaned over the counter, watching our every move. He was still frowning, but he was invested now. I noticed that his right hand was hidden in his pocket and realized that he was touching his cock.

Bridget slipped a finger into my well of heat, pushing deeper until she had her palm pressed against my wet flesh. I moaned, spreading my thighs to make it easier for her and grinding against her hand. She held my gaze as she slowly, deftly fingered my cunt while Chuck slaved over my tits with his lips, his scruff rough on my tender skin. I let out a shuddering sigh. I was a bundle of need. If only Bridget’s hand would move to my clitoris I could come in an moment. I bathed in all the attention. But…

“I’m not supposed to come,” I squeaked, forcing the words out of my mouth.

Because the only thing in the whole universe at that moment was the orgasm that lurked deep in my belly, a joyful demon ready to make me forget my name.

“You’re so hot,” Chuck moaned, slurping my nipple. Oh, Jesus, I thought I could come from just his mouth on my tit.

Bridget’s breath was quick and hot. She leaned close, jostling Chuck’s head to come in for a breathless kiss. Her lips, so soft on mine. Her finger, rubbing that spot on the roof of my vagina that sent shivers up my spine. Her thumb barely flicked my clit, but it enough to drive me mad.

“I want to fuck,” Chuck whispered.

Bridget wanted to fuck me, too. She was hungry now, she rubbed her body against me, sighing and moaning.

I was so close to the edge even a breath threatened to tip me over.

“Are you going to come?” Avril said, grinning at me.

“No,” I said. Bridget kissed me, her tongue hot on mine. I let out a moan. “Maybe,” I admitted with a laugh.

“Oh, God, I want to make you come so bad,” Bridget breathed between kisses.

“I’m not allowed to come,” I moaned.

Avril just smiled at me. “You know what to do. Or what not to do.”

“You have to stop,” I said. Both Chuck and Bridget groaned. “You have to stop. I’m not allowed to come.”

Oh, how badly I wanted it. How easily it could have happened. Avril let me lower my arms.

“I’m so hard,” Chuck said. “Look.”

His erection was obvious and his shorts had a wet mark from his arousal. He laughed ruefully.

Bridget looked like she was ready to devour me, but she pulled her hand away from my cunt and rested it on my stomach.

“What now?” she said desperately.

Chuck unzipped, and pulled an impressive erection from his shorts. A moment later, he had Bridget’s shorts around her ankles, pushing into her pussy from behind. I was pinned to the bookcase, Bridget’s body against mine. She was short enough that her head rested naturally on my breast as Chuck fucked her from behind. She moaned. Oh, how she moaned. And she sucked my tits while he fucked her. Her whimpers, the wet noises of her sex, Chuck’s soulful groans filled me.

The door to the shop opened. A startled patron backed out. The shop-keeper didn’t seem to care. He’d stopped pretending and had unzipped his pants, his cock curving from his fly. All around me was sex in one form or another.

I leaned in, my fingers seeking Bridget’s cunt. I found it hot, soaking wet, and full of Chuck’s cock. She whimpered as I rubbed her clitoris. Chucks balls budged against my fingers as he thrust into her. I could feel his slipping, sliding shaft against my fingertips. It was the hottest thing I’d ever exprienced, and Bridget seemed to think so, soo.

Without warning, she started to tremble. Her cries raised in pitch. I rubbed her clit faster, doing the best that I could at the awkward angle. She shuddered and Chuck fucked harder, plowing into her. She bucked, her face bright red, letting out a scream of pleasure as her pussy squeezed around her boyfriend’s cock.

Chuck came too, grunting as he filled Bridget’s cunt with his load. The shop-keeper groaned, coming on the floor behind his counter. When he was done, he disappeared into the back room.

“Oh, fuck,” Chuck said. “That was fucking amazing.”

Bridget kissed me with tender abandoned for a long time, her tongue flirting with mine, her lips soft.

“Maybe we could do this again when you can finish, too?” she said.

“I’d like that,” I said.

Chuck exchanged information with Avril and he and Bridget went their own way.

On the Beach, Part 10

Previous episodes.

Elie took my hand and brought me to my feet. He touched my cheek. The same cheek that had just moments before sparkled with a baptism of his jizz. I was coming down, coming back to earth, but my heart still skittered with anxious energy. Or horniness. Or both.

“My beauty, my lovely little Cunt. I will attend to you later.”

“Where are you going?” I frowned.

“I’m a lifeguard, remember? I saved you from drowning yesterday?”

I laughed. It seemed like forever ago. It reminded me that Elie, who seemed like a god conjured from the sea, was also a man.

“How can you possibly afford this place?” I said.

He smiled. “It is a rude question. You barely know me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I will punish you for it later,” he said with a smile. “While I’m gone you have a few errands. I expect you to find some new clothes. Avril can point you in the right direction. Buy a journal and write down anything about today that you think is important.”

“I don’t mind shopping,” I said. “You’re making this too easy.”

“You’ll obey Avril just like you would me, in my absence.”

“Happy to do that, too,” I said.

“Oh, and you are not allowed to wear clothes,” Elie said. “Except when you are trying them on in the shop.”

My throat tightened and arousal lurched in my belly.

“Is that legal?”

“Yes, but you will attract a lot of attention. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes.” I shivered. I was excited.

Elie smiled and drew me close. I trembled at the press of his muscles, at his warmth. My body hummed with an urgent need for him to take me.

“Elie, will you… Will you fuck me now before you go?”

“No,” Elie said. “I want you to wait for it.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “I want you inside.”

“Good,” he said. “When you want it ten times as bad, maybe then you will be ready.”

“Oh, God. I’ll die.”

“You will not,” he said. “I promise.”

I watched Elie slip into short and a t-shirt. He was almost as sexy dressed as he was naked. Almost. I gazed at him. I was so attracted to him, but I realized that it wasn’t his body or his personality. From the moment I’d met him, he’d taken charge of me. I liked it.

Elie turned as he left. “Oh, and remember, you’re not to touch your pussy today. At all. Do you understand?”

I nodded and bit my lip.

I watched him leave and ached for more.

* * *

I showered. The entire time I was fixated on the ache between my legs. I wanted to touch myself. Elie would never know, but it violated the rules of the game he was constructing, and I didn’t want to seem so weak. But, ohhhhh, did I want to rub my clit. Not even an orgasm, just some rubbing, some pinching. I made a fist to keep my fingers from trailing down my abdomen.

I felt like a new person as the water dripped down my body. I’d certainly started a new adventure. I thought I might be going crazy, but I felt at home with Elie and his friends. I’m not sure I’d ever felt that before.

I found Avril, Asha, and Lars curled in a second, smaller bedroom. They were a tangle of limbs, sheets and bare skin. The room smelled of sex and incense.

Avril stirred as I peered in from the doorway. She brushed her purple hair out of her eyes and smiled at me.

“Hello, my sweet,” she said, her slight accent drawing me in immediately.

After all had showered, dressed and breakfasted, Lars and Asha went their separate ways. I chuckled to realize that this morning was the first time I’d seen any of my new friends dressed. What an odd meeting! Asha kissed my cheek and Lars hugged me, grabbing a palmful of my naked butt as if it were simply his way of hugging.

“I look forward to seeing more of you,” Lars said, waggling his eyebrows.

I laughed. “I’m not sure how much more of me there is to see,” I said and waved them off.

I’d asked Avril to stay behind.

“Elie asked me to do a few things today,” I said. “And I need your help. If you can spare some time.”

I told her the tasks I’d been assigned. Avril glowed.

“I’m pleased we get to spend more time together,” Avril said. “I have a client this afternoon, but the whole morning is free. Are you nervous about what Elie has asked you to do?”

“Yes, but excited too,” I said. “I like playing the game. There’s only one problem: I have no money with me.”

Avril smiled. “Oh, I have you covered.”

“I will pay you back,” I promised.

“Yes, you will,” Avril said.

Leaving the shelter of the apartment with no clothes on was very exciting. My heart raced and my mouth was dry. I recognized that feeling so well from the naked games I would play in the woods back home, only this was far more intense. In my games, there was only the possibility of being seen. Today there was a certainty.

The street we were on was bathed in sunlight. It was narrow and cobble-stoned, with a view of the glistening sea behind. I could taste the sea air. The street was quiet, but there were two old men sitting at the corner, smoking. Their skin was dark and wrinkled, and they stared at my nubile body with beady old-man eyes as we passed. They never smiled, as if it would be impolite, but they had no problem leering. My nipples hardened under their gaze.

Avril stopped me in front of them.

“Gentlemen, may I present Tara? Isn’t she a beauty?” she said in Spanish, my own comprehension racing to keep up. Avril translated when I struggled.

One of the old men cracked a toothless grin. “An angel! A goddess!”

“Where are her clothes?” the other old man asked.

“Why, I thought she was more lovely in the nude. Are you complaining, sir?”

“Ah, no, no. I haven’t seen a young woman like that in fifty years. Not since my wife was young, may God rest her soul.” He crossed himself.

“More lovely than heaven itself. Her tits are like… Ripe peaches.”

“Better than peaches,” the other old man said. “Look at how hard her nipples are!” His tongue flicked his cigarette-chapped lips.

“Give these gentlemen a twirl, Tara.”

I slowly rotated so that they could get a good view of me fore and aft. There was much commenting on my ass, which both men seemed very much to like. Meanwhile I was stewing in a brew of embarrassment and heady arousal. A flush covered my breasts, crept up my neck, and colored my cheeks with heat. My heart pounded at being on display. It was uncomfortable and also extremely liberating.

“Maybe she can do a little dance?” one old man asked.

Avril nodded. Ah, hell. I wasn’t much of a dancer. I did my best impression of a woman dancing awkwardly for horny old men. They laughed and clapped and seemed delighted.

“If I were young again…” he said. I heard sadness in his voice as he was reminded of his proximity to the grave. “You have made an old man happy.”

Avril bid them politely farewell. They waved and blew kisses as they watched me walk away, beady eyes watching the swaying of my hips wistfully.

She led me down several side avenues to a lane packed with colorful shops and eateries. The village was a popular spot for tourists in the summer (here for the luxurious sand and sea) and this street was bustling. All of my senses were heightened: I heard German, Italian, British English, a whole mix of accents and tongues; I smelled sweet and savory aromas, the smell of rich bread and coffee, the tang of expensive perfume; I felt a hot Spanish breeze whispering through my pubes, tickling my hard nipples, sending goosebumps over my bare skin; I tasted the metallic zing of my own arousal on my tongue; I saw men and women from all over the world, and I watched their heads turn, their eyes locking on the naked woman. Me.

Laughter. Pointing. Confused looks. I stood frozen by the attention, my heart racing a mile a minute. Phones were pulled from back pockets or expensive handbags. Suddenly I was at the center of every lens on the street. I had a moment of empathy for celebrities and their omnipresent papprazzi. I felt like my arousal must be so obvious: flushed breast, hard nipples, even the wetness of my pussy seemed like it must be obvious to them. They took picture after picture of my bare body.

Avril took my hand and kindly led me down the street. I attracted a circle of onlookers, most of them men. Some of the tourists shrugged and went on their way, but others started following us. Apparently, seeing a naked woman on a busy street was a bit unusual and they wanted to see where this show would end up. Avril very graciously greeted people and answered questions from curious onlookers.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking her for a walk.”

“Is this for a TV show?”

“No, think of this as an art project.”

Many men whistled, or catcalled. A group of young men followed us making all kinds of offers of sex. I was amused by the men who had a woman on their arms, who had the audacity to catcall despite their wife or girlfriend. The attention was both arousing and uncomfortable, but I felt a sense of power over those men. Like the Pied Piper I was leading all the rats out of Dublin Town.

Avril stopped into a bakery. The boy behind the counter (a handsome young man with sensitive eyes) tried very hard not to stare at my tits, but I caught his many hasty glances. He blushed sweetly and I found myself a little bit in love with him. Avril noticed, too.

“It’s okay to look,” she said to him. “She’s naked so that everyone can get a good look at her.”

He grinned and nodded, and took a good hard look at my breasts, my stomach, my bush. But he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I wondered if he’d ever seen a naked woman in the flesh. I might be his first. The thought made my pussy twitch.

Avril chose a little round table on the sidewalk so we could be as fully visible to passing tourists as possible. The metal mesh of the seat was cold and uncomfortable on my pussy, and my pubes kept getting caught, pulling my skin uncomfortably if I moved. So I sat very still. A ring of admirers gathered around us, snapping photos and video. I was too aroused and agitated to focus. I sipped espresso and nibbled nervously at the pastry Avril had bought.

“How are you, dearest?” Avril said.

“It’s a lot of attention,” I said. I realized my armpits were sweaty.

“This is great training for you,” Avril said. “You’re naked and lots of people are staring, but you haven’t melted or burst into flame.”

I gulped. I was so aware. It wasn’t too late for the melting or flame-bursting to begin.

“Are you turned on?” Avril said.

“Oh yeah,” I said, pinching my thighs around my sex, trying to dull the buzz I felt.

“Why don’t you tell your fans how you feel?”

I glanced at the ring of people, mostly men. “Oh, fuck,” I whispered. That made me feel absolutely dizzy.

“Go ahead. Stand up, tell them how you feel.”

I stood. My thighs trembled, my upper thigh damp from my pussy. My nipples were hard as rocks.

“Stand tall, say it loud,” Avril said. “Tell them how you feel.”

I cleared my throat. My voice felt weak. “I’m…” Oh, God. My cheeks blazed. “I am so turned on right now.”

The men laughed, some clapped. Calls of “I bet you are”, “I’ve got what you need, just bend over,” and “Give us a show, darling” were drowned out by my pulse in my ears. And my pussy. Oh, God, horniness and nerves made it hard to think straight.

I sat back down. Avril grinned. “You’re doing great!”

I let out a crooked grin. “This is kinda fun.”

“Of course it is,” she said.

On the Beach, Part 9

Previous episodes.

Tara finds herself consorting with a group of libertines who seek to plumb the depths of her sexual nature. In the previous chapter, we learned that Tara shows signs of the qualities of a Vessel — a person who seeks fulfillment through being empty, and filled. In this chapter, Elie forces her to confront her true desires.

Wine flowed, as did spirited talk. Asha rubbed her pussy until she came, her whimpers of bliss giving me shivers. Even in orgasm she seemed graceful. Asha chased her orgasm by going down on Avril with a tenderness only a lover could conjure, and followed that with another round of shameless fingering and a second orgasm. Avril mounted Lars and fucked him, and then Asha, Lars and Avril entwined together. Mouths, tongues, cock, assholes and cunts all were liberally shared between them.

Elie held me and we watched them fucking one another. I felt safe in his arms.

“Do you want to join them?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “Maybe. Maybe soon?”

Elie nodded, and teased my nipple between his fingers.

“Do you want to join them?” I said. “I don’t want you to miss out on my account.”

“I will stay with you, tonight,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

Elie smiled, and ran his fingers through my hair. “I think I know you better than you know yourself, my dear Tara.”

Perhaps he did.

I was bleary with wine and weary from almost drowning. I watched the orgy unfold as a ghost might attend a cocktail party. I let my head rest on Elie’s thigh, and in a sleepy haze I suckled his cock. I’m not sure if he came, or if it were a dream that I felt his cum on my cheek.

When I awoke, the sun streamed through the window. I was in a large bed, in a high-ceilinged bedroom with tiled floors and a lofty, Arabesque-inspired ceiling. I was naked, and in the summer heat I’d kicked off all of the bed clothes. Elie, also naked, lay next to me. Handsome, fit. His body like a god. He had a beautiful erection that simply begged for attention.

I lounged against him and slipped his cock into my mouth, slurping on his bulging tip lazily, tasting the slick soapiness of him on my tongue. He groaned and stirred, running fingers through my hair.

As I sucked him, I reflected on the night before. It seemed like a dream. It seemed like nonsense. I wondered about this group of friends, and if I’d fallen into some kind of a sex cult. Perhaps I had.

Gradually, I took more of him in my mouth. My lazy ministrations became more focused as I stopped teasing and started to work toward the goal. I bobbed my head, grasping his hilt as I took him deeper, my lips and tongue working his shaft, saliva dribbling down my chin. He moaned, lifting his hips. His abs flexed. Oh, Jesus, those abs. My pussy was wet and tingled with hot need. Elie had let me sleep last night, but I hoped he would fuck me this morning.

“Wait,” he said.

I looked at him, wiping my mouth with my arm, hating to stop. He was close, I could tell. His cock was so fucking stiff and wet. Oh God, I wanted to straddle him and ride.

“We are going to try something,” he said.

He knelt and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He pulled my head back. I gasped.

“Tell me what you are,” he said. His voice was soft, but still urgent.

He started stroking his impressive cock directly over my face.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you?” he said, pulling my hair.

“I don’t know,” I said, genuinely confused.

“Spread your legs,” he said and I did.

Elie stopped stroking his cock long enough to slap my pussy, hard. I shrieked, clamping my thighs together. My cunt sparkled and pinged.

“Jesus Christ,” I swore at the pleasure-pain in my loins.

Elie started stroking again. “Tell me, Tara, what are you?”

“I don’t know,” I moaned. “What do you want me to say?”

“Spread,” he said. Again, his hand left his cock long enough to give me a stunning slap that left my pussy prickling and my body writhing under him.

“Oh, fuck.” I squirmed and wriggled.

“What kind of woman lets a man do this to her?” Elie said, stroking his cock just an inch from my nose. “What are you?”

“I’m a… a slut?”

I sensed he wasn’t asking me to talk dirty to him.

“I’m a slut,” I said again, more definitely.

He pulled my hair and smiled. “Own it,” he said. “What defines a slut?”

I gasped, intensely aroused. My nipples, my pussy, my skin all sparkled with a need to be touched.

What defines a slut?

“Sex,” I said. Sex. A hunger for sex.

He stroked his cock right in my face, tugging my head, forcing me to arch my back. I could see every vein, the way the skin bunched beneath his palm. He dripped slime on my cheek. His palm made smacking noises around the cock-head. It strained, ready to empty its payload onto my face.

A shudder ran up my spine. “I want you.”

Apparently, that wasn’t what I should have said.

“Spread,” he commanded. I winced, but obeyed. The slap made me writhe, lightning charging up my spine.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I said, shaking. I feared another smack on my tender folds, yet the pain lit a fire between my thighs.

“Go deeper,” Elie commanded. “What are you?”

He wanted me to discover something. What am I? Who am I?

“Let go,” he said. “What defines a slut?”

“Sex,” I said, repeating myself. “Fucking. I don’t know.”

“Spread.”

I cried out, writhed with an agony of pleasure, as he slapped my cunt. My thighs closed involuntarily.

“Open,” he said again, not done torturing my poor flower. I did as he said, and writhed with yet another stinging slap to my tender bits. “Hold your thighs open and accept the pain,” he said.

Oh my God. Oh my sweet Jesus. Those words. They did something to me. I parted my legs, bared my pink to him. My body tensed, anticipating. The slap, a whimper. Another slap. My cunt, humming, buzzing, agony. I forgot myself and focused only on one thing: keeping my shuddering thighs open so that Elie could lash my cunt. I wasn’t Tara anymore. I was cunt and agony. Cunt and heat. Cunt and hunger.

Then just Cunt.

“Oh my God,” I sobbed as the truth rose to the surface through a haze of pain and bliss and desire. “Oh my God.”

“What are you?” Elie asked, gently slipping two fingers into my soaking wet pussy.

“I am cunt,” I moaned.

“Say it again,” he said, fingering me tenderly, pleasure swirling in my belly.

“I’m cunt,” I said.

“Anything else?” he said.

“No. Just… cunt.”

It made so much sense to me in the blinding clarity of that moment, how enlightenment was somehow hiding in the dizzying, slick ache between my thighs.

He scooped me, kissed me passionately on the lips, still sliding his fingers in and out of my pussy.

“Yes,” he whispered. “You’re starting to understand. Lose yourself and you will find yourself.”

I moaned.

“Do you want my baptism?” Elie said, squeezing his cock, milking it toward the purple tip.

“Yes,” I said, without a moment of hesitation.

Elie took my hand and guided me off the bed.

“Kneel,” he said.

I got to my knees, naked and vulnerable before him.

He put both hands on my head. He let his cock rest on my forehead, hot and slick. The tip lay atop the very center of my forehead: my third eye. It didn’t feel sexual (despite his dick on my face) but more like I was being inducted into a sorority, or being knighted by the Queen.

“Tara, I can guide you if you will trust me.”

“I trust you,” I said solemnly.

“I want you to turn yourself over to me for a while. Your body, your soul, your will. Together we will explore these desires of yours.”

“Okay,” I said.

I smiled. It was strange to have such a serious conversation with his erection resting on my face.

“I will ask you to do things that will make you uncomfortable, do you understand?”

“I like being uncomfortable,” I said.

“There’s a difference between running naked through the woods and what I will ask you to do.”

I let out a deep breath. “Elie, if you tell me to do something, I’ll do it.”

This was a game, a sex game. If there were anything that I understood, it was how to play the game.

“Your body will belong to me, for whatever end I please. Do you accept this?”

I paused. My nerves fluttered. “Yes,” I said.

“I will humiliate you. In public. Will you accept it?”

I buzzed. “Yes,” I said. What had my games been other than a flirtation with humiliating myself?

“I will share you with other men and women, strangers perhaps, at my whim and not yours.”

I hesitated, but Elie’s bold plan had a heady momentum, and it both aroused and frightened me. I nodded.

“Tara, I want you to really hear me. I will offer up your cunt, your asshole, your mouth, to men and women you don’t know. Will you accept this?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling a definitely tightness in my chest.

“Is there anything I can ask you to do that you will refuse?”

“Why don’t we find out?” I said.

Elie smiled. “I think you’re ready. Tilt your head toward me,” he said.

He lifted his cock from where it had been resting on my forehead. His juices had been leaking onto my skin leaving a dewy patch on my third eye. The spot tingled.

Elie milked his shaft, the tip pointed at that point on my forehead. I closed my eyes.

“Tell me what you are,” he said in a voice thick, straining against his desire to come.

I said the words like a prayer: “I am Cunt.”

With a groan he ejaculated. Hot streams rained down on my cheeks. I gasped, opened my mouth and kept my eyes pinched shut. When he was done I laughed. His cum was everywhere: pooling on my cheeks, in my eyelashes and caught in my hair. He let go of my head. I knelt with my face covered. The moment felt perversely holy, like I had indeed been baptized by his jizz.

“Now you belong to me,” he growled.

I was totally at peace. I smiled and licked the cum off my lips, blinking. I vibrated inside. I had found the answer to questions I didn’t know I had been asking. I laughed. Joy.

Elie handed me a towel.

“I know you want to come,” he said. “I’m going to withhold that from you.”

I was quivering with desire, aching to feel him inside of me, to feel his fingers on my clit, but I nodded.

“I trust you,” I said. “Show me the way.”

On the Beach, Part 8

Previous episodes.

It has been a really long time since I posted to this story, which started as a request and tribute for the immaculate Besos de Cuero.

A near-death experience has led Tara to a group of hedonists who are determined to help her unravel the mystery of her sexuality. An evening she thought would end in a simple hookup has become a transformative sexual encounter. We join her with her new companions, all naked, as they start unwrapping her soul.

Avril sat next to me. Her skin on mine. She was warm and smelled like lavender and marijuana. She rested her hand on my bare belly. I gazed up at her. Her eyes were a lustrous brown.

“Look into my eyes, okay?” she said. Her gentle accent was soothing. “Don’t look away.”

I nodded, gazing at her.

“So. Tell me more about guilt and sex,” she said. “You were told sex was bad?”

I nodded. “Honestly, I’m sure I drove my mom nuts. I was a very, uh, free-spirited child. I was spanked for saying or doing anything that might lead to sin.”

“Really?”

“They told me I was going to hell,” I said bluntly. “Honestly, I was spanked up until the day I left the house for college. Literally that very morning.”

“Oh,” Avril said. “As an adult woman?”

I swallowed. “Yes.” I would never feel like an adult woman around my father. “My parents wanted me to go to a Christian school. My father was sure Florida State would doom me to hell. He was probably right. I got into a lot of trouble.”

Avril laughed. “You still are getting it trouble,” she said, and I laughed too. Here I was, naked, with a group of virtual strangers.

If my parents had only known the truth about their girl. I’d gotten into plenty of trouble in high school, too. There were lots of car backseats with my stain on them in my hometown. I’d been looking for something in those steamy, hasty trysts. Even then I understood that much.

“Go on,” Avril said. “Go deeper. Tell me about every sexual thing you can recall.”

Maybe it was the wine, but I felt completely accepted by these people. I told about my religious upbringing, and my rebellion against it. I realized that most of my rebellion involved nudity, masturbation, or both. Many of the details I’d forgotten, like how I used to put my Bible under my hips while I masturbated and then prayed for forgiveness afterwards.

As I spoke, Avril let her hand slide lower on my belly.

“Very good,” Avril said. “Go deeper.”

I told story after story of my entire sexual history. Sometimes Avril would stop on very particular details that seemed unimportant to me, such as the intimate details of a handjob:

“Do you remember how you cleaned up after he came?” she asked at one point.

I laughed. “I don’t remember… I don’t… Wait.”

Suddenly I had a clear, crisp recollection of wiping my boyfriend’s cum on my own panties after giving my first handjob. I kept the panties dirty and used them for friction while masturbating for weeks. I’d forgotten. It seemed so grossly odd, now. I remember how turned on I’d been, and how afraid I was that his dried semen would somehow get me pregnant, and how that thought heightened the arousal for me.

I told all of this and Avril nodded, as if it was the answer she’d been expecting. Why this was important, I have no idea.

“Tell me, does cum disgust you or are you strangely attracted to it?”

“Strangely attracted,” I admitted.

I remembered tasting semen the first time, how I’d been fascinated with it. How it made my boyfriend uncomfortable, even, and he didn’t want to kiss me for days.

So it went, down through my whole sexual history. Avril dredged up story after story and patterns began to emerge as if she was administering a personality test.

“So you had a tendency to nudity, then?” she asked.

I laughed. “I used to play a game in the woods near our house. I called it ‘risking it’. Basically, the game was to start on one end of the wood, strip down and hide my clothes, and then run the path to the other side of the woods and back to my clothes. Naked. Without getting caught.”

Avril nodded wisely. “Did you ever get caught?”

“No,” I said. “Some close calls.”

Risking it had been a self-inflicted punishment. I would do something ‘bad’, like masturbation, and then punish myself with by risking it. This became self-perpetuating.

“It sounds like a child’s game. How old were you?”

I flushed. “Honestly… Honestly? I never stopped ‘risking it’. I still do it.”

“Really?” Avril said, her eyes sparkling. She kissed me, her lips curling with a delighted grin. “You’re wonderfully creative.”

“Uh, it’s hard to admit that. On campus, in buildings, on a trail not far from campus. Yeah. Not safe, I guess. Still never been caught though.”

Avril narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to be caught?”

The question stuck like a barb. My throat tightened. I had a hard time speaking.

“Maybe,” I whispered.

“Tell me the absolute truth,” Avril said.

“I mean, I don’t want to be murdered, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you ‘risk it’ by running around naked trying to avoid getting caught by… men?”

“Ugh, it sounds crazier the more you talk about it.”

Avril leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. “Dearest, you still haven’t told me the truth. Tell me what this game means to you.”

I licked my lips. “When I masturbate, I feel shame. I relieve the shame through punishment, and the punishment I’ve developed since I was a child is to get naked and go places I shouldn’t be.”

“Yet, doesn’t this game turn you on?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“So it leads to more masturbation. Which leads to more punishment.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You hope the a man will catch you. He will tie you up. He will torture you without hurting you. He will make you feel things that you can’t make yourself feel.”

My nerves tingled at what she’d just described. Avril smiled.

“You looked away,” Avril said. “Look into my eyes. Is this why you play the game? Do you want a man to force you to feel pleasure because then the pleasure isn’t your fault and you cannot feel guilty about it?”

I was stunned into silence. I cleared my throat. “Maybe,” I admitted.

Avril looked at Elie, who nodded. Avril’s hand drifted from my tummy and caressed the curls on my mons pubis. It was comforting, like my sex was a pet that needed attention. I sighed, settling into the couch.

“So tell me about masturbation. You masturbate often?”

“I keep track, actually. I know it sounds crazy, but I have a system. If I touch myself, but don’t have an orgasm, it’s less minutes of punishment. If I give myself an orgasm, I have more to make up for.”

“So you’ve developed an exquisite system of edge play,” Elie noted.

“Yeah,” I said. “Look, my system doesn’t work. I started it as a girl because I was trying to stop thinking about boys and touching myself, because of the Bible or something.”

Avril smiled. “We’re the last people on earth to judge you, dearest. What do you imagine when you masturbate?”

I licked my lips.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just say the words.”

I took a deep breath. “I imagine getting caught while risking it. I imagine a man, sometimes. Or a group of men. And they catch me, and have their way with me.”

“They restrain you?”

“Yes. They tie me, or hold me down.”

“Do they torture you?”

“Yes,” I said, starting to squirm.

“Is the torture pleasurable or painful?”

“Both,” I admitted.

“Do you ever imagine them really hurting you?”

“No,” I said.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Avril said, kissing me tenderly. Her fingers moved a little lower. I uncrossed my legs and parted them slightly to let her slide a finger gently between them.

“Tell me, have you ever explored this side of your true self with a partner?”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Your entire sexual being seems to center around a pivot point. You find excuses to get naked. You play a dangerous game to get some excitement and fuel your fantasies. I believe that these signs point to something important about your true self.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Tell me, Tara, have you ever put yourself in the position of being an object of lust?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Let me ask a different question. Has any past lover ejaculated on your face?”

“Yes,” I said. “Like a porno.”

“Did you like this?” Avril said. “Would you do it again?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“What did you like about this? You don’t get pleasure from having a man’s cum on your face.”

“No. It’s not because it feels good. It’s because… I like it, sort of want it. Actually, I have no idea how to describe it.”

“Do you know why you like it?” Avril said.

“I guess I like it when men do things to me.”

“Do you think it’s degrading or disrespectful to have a man cum on your face?”

“Well, no,” I said, hesitating. “I mean…  I like the feeling of letting a guy just do stuff to me. On me. Does that make sense?”

Avril nodded. “You make more and more sense to me, dear.”

“I like to be bossed around,” I admitted. “I’m not very sexually aggressive, but more…”

“Submissive,” Elie said sternly. His voice sent a shiver through me.

Avril spoke, drawing my attention back to her. “What I’m trying to draw out of you is whether you are passive because your path is to be a Vessel, or because your socialization has trained you to think so.”

“A Vessel?” I said.

“A Vessel’s natural state is emptiness, yet she exists only to be filled,” Elie said.

A shudder ran up my spine. She exists only to be filled. The words echoed in the chambers of my heart.

“You think I’m a Vessel?” I said.

Avril smiled. “Sexual passivity can be a powerful tool of self-discovery, so long as there is also an active partner. You are like a sexual flower just waiting to burst into bloom.” As Avril said this, her finger teased between my petals. “I think I can read you now.”

She kissed me on the lips. Tenderly. Lingeringly. Her finger circled my clitoris in lazy circles. I sparkled. The sensation was delicious. Everything felt so natural.

I stared into her eyes when the kiss broke. “Tell me,” I said. “Tell me what you know about me.”

She put her palm over my bare breast. Her energy warmed my heart.

“I know that you are blind to your own desires. All of your life you have gone through the motions of sex, but you have never been truly penetrated. No man has ever really known you. In this way you are very much alone. I also see that you instinctively seek more from life, from sex. Your naked games are an expression of this yearning, a spiritual rebellion.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Let us awaken you,” Elie said, speaking for Avril.

“You must allow yourself explore what you desire,” Avril said. “Let us help you.”

“I don’t know how,” I moaned, wiping tears from my eyes. “I have no idea.”

“Darling, we’ll show you the way,” Avril said.

“Just tell me what to do.” I said.

She laughed. “I will let Elie guide you.”

Avril seemed to speak directly to me in a way noone had ever done before. It wasn’t the words. Perhaps it was her touch on my skin, or the sincerity in her voice, but I found myself opening, blooming beneath her words. I threw my arms around her and pulled her naked body against mine. I kissed her neck, her cheeks, her beautiful lips. I petted her purple hair.

Avril kissed my cheeks. Lars leaned close and gave me a hug. I laughed. His hard cock rested on my hip. Asha was still lazily touching her pussy, having listened intently to the unfolding of my sexual past.

Elie took my hands and bid me to stand. He stared into my soul.

“You said it all started with masturbation,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You said that you feel guilty when you masturbate, even as a grown woman?”

“Yes.”

“Then that will be your next test,” he said.

On the Beach, Part 7

Read Part 6.

Elie stood. “It’s time,” he said.

Asha clapped. “Oh, good. Finally.”

On the BeachElie held out his hand to me. I stood. He positioned me in the middle of the room and fetched the glass of red wine he’d poured earlier. All eyes sparkled in the candlelight, and everyone watched me. I felt awfully naked. But it was good. I buzzed with arousal and wondered what was happening.

Elie handed me the glass of red wine. His eyes were beautiful in the shadows of the room. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled. I smelled the fresh rain. Goosebumps rippled over my skin.

“I’ve invited you here because I like you, Tara,” he said. “But if you want to be part of our little group you’ll have to be tested.”

Continue reading “On the Beach, Part 7”

On the Beach, Part 6

Read Part 5 first.

Tara finds herself surrounded by Elie’s eclectic and naked friends, drinking wine and getting to know one another. Clearly, she’s fallen into some gang of libertines. She’s fascinated by them, by their philosophy, and longs to feel as free as they do. Here we learn a bit about Tara’s conservative past and her longing to experience a wider world.

~ *** ~

Lars was a gregarious fellow. He liked to laugh and tell stories, which I found hilarious. He bantered with all of us, seeming to enjoy asking personal questions. I had a hard time reading him. He didn’t fit into any of the categories of manhood that I was familiar with. In one moment he was like a playful kitten and the next he was sultry as a New Orleans prostitute. I wondered if he preferred men or women.

Needless to say, he was fascinating to me. Both because of his personality and the utterly distracting way that he stroked his cock while he spoke. At one point, I was listening to Lars tell a story and my eyes landed on his hard shaft. I watched as he slowly, almost absently, moved his fingers. The way the soft skin shifted. The moisture glistening at the tip. The bulging purple head. Wet noises as he stroked.

My mouth watered and my thighs trembled.

Continue reading “On the Beach, Part 6”