Kristen Nicole

Kristen Nicole

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Kristen Nicole, Miss May 2013

Summary

Kristen Nicole, Miss May 2013

Content

Submitted: May 10, 2013

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Content

Submitted: May 10, 2013

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Sometimes when Stanley was asked what his job was he would have to scratch his head and take a mental inventory which always took him a long time since the files in his brain were scattered around in a haphazard mess.

 

He fixed stuff and was actually pretty good at keeping decades old appliances and some of the more dodgy plumbing of the Mansion in relatively good working order. He did a lot of driving, not like the official chauffer the publisher used, but he drove a van around to pick up stuff like dry cleaning and wine and he shuttled playmates back and forth to the airport and the malls around town.

 

He would probably venture to guess that sex with the playmates he drove around was part of his job. Like when he had to pick up like a ton of dry cleaning and all those slippery plastic bags were such a fucking pain and he was dropping stuff all over the parking lot and then he had to pick up that Jaslyn Ome at some doctor’s office and she noticed he was all sweaty from lugging the fucking plastic bags and she was so nice and sweet and suggested they go in the back of the van and ball. Right there in the doctor’s parking lot. Well sure but, when he got his clothes off and her clothes off and they started going at it, it got tricky. Damn she was good, all sweet kisses and eager limbs and she liked it wild with a lot of thrashing around and that was fine with Stanley but they were balling right on top of all that dry cleaning and those fucking bags were so slippery it was like they were fucking on an oil slick. Good ol’ Jaslyn solved the problem by wrapping tight around him and biting into his shoulder and really going at it like a crazy women but that’s probably not in in his job description although he does get his share of nice and willing playmates.

 

He might guess that his job was to hang out with playmates but he wasn’t really part of the party crowd although a lot of times playmates would slip away from the b-list celebrities and seek out Stanley and give him a blowjob or a quick fuck under a table. Yeah that was good but maybe it was like a perk from his job rather than his official job.

 

He would sometimes explain his job was a lot of hanging out but looking busy with tools and shit whenever the publisher or one of the executives was on a rampage about money and bills. Not that money mattered; Stanley couldn’t remember the last time he got paid. He ate all his meals at the Mansion and slept in a maid’s room and entertained a lot of the playmates when he brought them in there. That fucking Anna Sophia Berglund even wrote some kind dirty song about getting fucked by the maid after she did him in there a few times. She was a good fuck too and she had this way of squeezing her big breasts around his cock while she sucked him and that was really fine. Maybe his job was to get blowjobs from playmates and fix that fucking grotto plumbing before all the pipes burst.

 

Today though his job was to drive to fucking Mexico. Well not Mexico exactly. Kristen Nicole, the new Miss May, was scheduled for a shoot down in a village in Mexico. Stanley, as a rule, liked Miss Mays, they were fun to ball; except that Miss May 2010, man she was into some kinky shit, but Miss May 2011, she had some knockers and she loved to have them played with. Wait, the new Miss May, Kristen Nicole, we’re talking about her. Stanley really needed to straighten out his mental files.

 

The new Miss May, Mexico, only not Mexico. Stanley had to pick up the model and take her to a shoot location. The crew had gone on ahead and apparently the new Miss May had missed her ride. Stanley pulled the van in front of the hotel and saw her waiting and she looked pissed. He stopped the van and yelled out the passenger window. “Yo!”

 

Kristen Nicole was used to being called to by strangers and she could turn on the ice blonde glare; she was very skilled at ignoring guys who called out to her. Stanley noticed she had a lot of bags at her feet, as if she thought she was going to Mexico. Oh shit. 

 

Leaving the engine running he scrambled out. “Yo!” he called out again. He glanced back at the van, worried about a ticket. Get the girl and bags inside, that was the plan.
 

She looked at him with subzero eyes as he entered the zone she had claimed for herself. “Fuck off, loser,” she said.

 

“No, wait,” he put his palms up. “I’m with Playboy. I’m supposed to drive you to the shoot.”

 

“We’re driving to Mexico?” Her voice oozed distain.

 

Stanley’s brain paused and he sorted through all the possible answers. “We’re not going to Mexico,” that would lead to a kick in the nuts and he didn’t feature that as part of his day. “We’re going to the shoot,” he said finally.

 

She glared. If she had had a cigarette in her mouth she would have dropped it and stamped it out like a bug. “Somebody will hear about this,” she said and Stanley felt sorry for whoever that somebody was.

 

She strutted to the car. The gauzy shirt she wore was flowing and loose and he could see the red bikini top underneath. The skirt was gauzy too with, under that sexy see-through skirt, a very brief bikini bottom that accented the elegant roll of her plump ass. Stanley hopped to it and started tossing bags in the back. Then he hustled to open the door for her and she slid in.

 

He managed to pull away from the curb just before the cop reached the van. The top of the dashboard was covered in unpaid tickets and Stanley had no idea what happened to them in traffic court but he imagined that somehow the name “Playboy” made them disappear. Still he didn’t want to take chances so he waved at the cop as he merged into traffic but he almost rear-ended a Jaguar that had suddenly stopped.

 

“Be careful,” the newly minted Miss May complained.

 

Stanley nodded. “Oh don’t worry, excellent driver, spotless record.” He reached out to sweep away the tickets and jerked the wheel so he almost hit an Audi on the right.

 

“You are a bad driver,” she said coldly.

 

Stanley straightened up and gripped the wheel and tried to look like an astronaut docking a space station. He shuffled through the chaos of files in his brain and pictured the folder he had looked at earlier in the day when he got this driving assignment. There was the data sheet pinned to a head shot. His brain may have been messy but he could remember what was important: PLAYMATE DATA SHEET Name: Kristen Nicole, Bust: 34D (and Stanley gave those excellent breasts a once over as he considered the geometric glory of that number) Waist: 24” Hips: 34” (Poor Stanley was a sucker for voluptuous figure) Height: 5’9” Weight: 115, Birth date: 11-15-89, Birthplace: Escondido, CA, Ambitions: Designing interiors for high-end homes, (Stanley pictured escorting her to the mattress section of IKEA and helping to test a few. He let his eyes rove over her curvaceous body and decided they could test a lot of mattresses.) modeling, and appreciating all life has to offer. (Perfect, Stanley decided; he had plenty to offer.) Turn-ons: 1. I love nothing more than when an attentive man is kissing my neck and breasts. Heaven. (YES! Stanley slapped the steering wheel but the car swerved and almost jumped a curb.)

 

He righted the car but he could sense her melting glare as he got the car aligned with the flow of traffic. He checked off her number one turn-on; kissing her neck and breasts, that Stanley could do. His mind went to her turn offs: 1. Men who can’t carry on a conversation. (OK! he could tell some jokes like: How do you wake up Lady Gaga? You poke her face.) He began to laugh and almost side swiped another car as he tried to merge onto the freeway. Shit. Horns were honking all around the van but he managed to get into a lane at a reasonable speed. Where was he? Miss May’s turn-ons: getting those luscious knockers kissed by a guy like Stanley. Yeah, cool. Turn-offs? A guy not as suave as Stanley. He glanced over at that bodacious body next to him and admired the corn silk waves of hair and the soft round face with model perfection in her eyes and mouth and a sweet blush on her cheeks except her eyes were blazing with fury and her mouth was tight with anger. He recalled then her number two turn-off: “Bad drivers have zero chance of getting into my pants.” Shit. He gripped the wheel with military zeal and studied the traffic.

 

Stanley concentrated on his driving skills, determined to prove himself a good driver, an excellent driver, worthy of getting into those tiny bikini briefs. The problem was that the other drivers were not cooperating so there was a considerable amount of horn honking and bird flipping as well as plenty of sudden acceleration and lane changing. He worked hard, shifting and steering, his eyes set in what he imagined was an expression of extreme adulthood.

 

Kristen devoted herself to fuming silently and sexily. Little beads of perspiration formed like tiny jewels in the lush valley formed by her two pressed-together breasts. The red bikini seemed to be shrinking as she got more angry and the sheer white blouse was even more sheer now. After awhile she began to pay attention to the traffic signs and her exotic eyes started to flash with an even angrier realization. “This is not the way to the airport.” Her voice came out in one of those comic book balloons and it was covered with icicles.

 

“Um, no, that’s, um, very, you know, correct. This is not the way to the airport. There’s been a, you know, budget issues and stuff, a change. Plans have changed. The shoot is on the California side.”

 

“Where?” The girl’s question hit him like a punch in the stomach.

 

Stanley could see the girl’s shapely leg twitching as she tapped her foot in anger. She crossed her arms under her breasts, seeming to lift them up as a sumptuous feast or as a tantalizing exhibit of what Stanley was not going to have.

 

She asked again, “Where?” and if anything her voice was colder; Stanley almost reached for the heater. His brain shuffled through post-its and memos from the front office, notes to himself scrawled onto Big-Mac wrappers; he ran through dozens of folders and remembered the one that he had in his hand that very morning. It had contained a head shot of Miss May and she looked impossibly sexy and inviting; she wore a low cut gown and the sparkling bunny necklace drew his eyes to her elegant throat and the deep creamy 34D cleavage that looked so kissable. He remembered that she considered it heaven to have that throat and those breasts kissed and he began to salivate. A car honked as he swerved into another lane without signaling and he went back to the file. Oh, yeah, no bad driver was getting into her pants so he better shape up.

 

“Where?” she asked a third time and he searched the file some more. There was the head shot with the data sheet clipped to it and there it was- the third item in the folder was the type sheet of driving directions to the shoot on the beach. Stanley grinned and was about to announce their destination when his cluttered brain remembered that he left the folder in a pile of dirty laundry in the small room he used at the Mansion.

 

“Where?” he said, mustering up some courage and hunkering over the steering wheel in a display of driving expertise. “Where? It’s a surprise.” He stepped on the gas and a dozen cars honked at them.

 

What Stanley lacked in grace as a driver he made up with aggressiveness. The trip down I-5 became a white knuckle experience for the curvy girl; her arms propped on the dashboard, she leaned back as if to put distance between her beautiful face and the windshield but in doing so she made her 34D breasts jut forward even more. She was quickly soaked with panic sweat and the red bikini and sheer white blouse clung to her skin as if she were already nude. Stanley, even as he maneuvered like a mad man through the traffic, managed to get a good look at the stiffness of her nipples under the fabric of her skimpy outfit.

 

His brain pretty quickly had tossed out the idea of recollecting the directions to the official shoot sight. He was improvising now and running down a list of beaches along the coast between LA and San Diego.  His files stopped at Amanda Streich, Miss December 2012; she wasn’t a beach of course but that Polish babe had wanted to see a real California sunset so he took her to Torrey Pines where there was black sand and a nude beach. Yeah, that was the ticket. The black sand worked like an aphrodisiac on ol’ Amanda and they drilled like they were gonna work their way to China.

 

One advantage of working at the Mansion other then putting his cock into the mouths and cunts of an ever expanding array of lovely playmates was that Stanley got to make friends with some pretty powerful people which is why he knew the keypad code for the gate to a private beach right near Torrey Pines. The code, in case you ever need it, is “I like to fuck” translated into numbers. Stanley fumbled over it a few times while Kristen fumed silently but finally the gate opened and the van inched down the fire road while Stanley plotted his next move.

 

His mental fingers searched frantically through the clutter of files in his brain but his hands seemed sticky with jam and every file seemed like a distraction. He remembered how much fun he had had with Claire Sinclair and the delicious feel of Britany Nola’s mouth on his cock. He really really wanted to do Kristen but a suave line for him was “Don’t you think we should fuck now?”

 

But it was luscious Kristen, the buxom blonde with exotic eyes that got things started. The van had stopped at the edge of a bluff looking down on the striking black sand and foamy white breakers. The sun glistened invitingly on the water and it gave the black sand a warmth like it was a vast bed covered with a black satin sheet.

 

“Are we going to shoot here?”

 

Stanley’s brain parsed out the sentence. ‘We’ was plural and there was only him and a deliciously curvaceous playmate here. ‘Shoot’ meant the delicious curvaceous girl and a camera. And she would be naked in front of that camera. Going back to ‘we’ she must have meant that she expected him to be on the other side of the camera and looking through the viewfinder at her naked body. ‘Here’ meant, like right here and right now. OK, this is was good. Really good. He tried to remember if there was a camera among the gear in the van.

 

Like a little boy imitating an adult he dropped his voice an octave or two. “Yes, um, yes…this is where we are shooting the thing…the naked pictures. Of you. We are shooting naked pictures of you…here.”

 

Her eyes were still on the water; she was clearly imagining her centerfold with this stunning scene as the background. Her head swiveled abruptly and she gave him an accusing look. “Where’s the crew?”

 

The crew? That was a great question.  The crew was at some IHOP somewhere on the highway and waiting for the van.

 

He tried to remember the artsy BS that the photographers sometimes used on the models. “Um, this is an important, you know, shoot and all. I think it’s best if we establish some kind of thing, rap…rape…no…Rappaport?...no he’s my dentist…ah relationship thing. Like figure out how we work together…and, um, communicate?”

 

She looked at him skeptically. Then she looked out at the crystal blue water and magnificent black sand. “OK,” she said flatly with her eyes on the horizon.

 

Stanley tumbled out of the driver’s side and wasted no time attacking the back door. Several large aluminum trunks waited for him and he frantically flipped open the first one which turned out to contain tripods and reflector screens. He pulled it to the ground, figuring that he might use the stuff now so he’d look professional.

 

The next trunk was full of white silk fabric and blankets of exotic colors and shapes. No camera though. He pulled it out of the van and reached hopefully for the last box. Kristen in the meantime had climbed out and was heading down to the beach. He paused to admire the sensuous jiggle of her bottom as she strolled along the bluff.

 

The last trunk had to have a camera; it had better have a camera. He undid the metal latches and flipped it open in confidence of victory but there was no camera. Just a bunch of cables and tools he didn’t recognize.

 

He looked back to where Kristen was going and watched her blonde head disappear down the path as he descended to the beach. He looked at the three trunks and kicked the middle one in anger. It toppled over and the fabric and blankets tumbled out along with a black camera bag. Bingo.

 

The camera looked like some kind of large metallic black insect. Stanley knew enough about photography to screw the shade onto the end of the long lens and for extra effect he popped on a flash which immediately began to buzz like a demented cicada.

 

He slipped the strap around his neck, hoisted the case over his shoulder, grabbed a tripod and followed after the girl.

 

Kristen skittered and skied down the bluff easily enough but for Stanley, burdened with the camera gear, it was a struggle. Plus he was working his brain over time in an effort to figure out how photographers managed to get girls to strip for them.

 

By time he reached the beach it turned out Kristen was all set anyway. The red bikini and the sheer white blouse had been tossed aside and were blowing along the sand in the breeze. The lovely model had selected a palm tree with some greenery around it. The future Miss May was standing in the low weeds with one shapely leg thrust forward as she lifted the hem of the light blue sarong. Her right hand, holding the hem was draped gracefully down over her thigh. The waist line of the garment hung low on her hips, the better to display the smooth flesh of her skin and the lovely curves of her figure.

 

Her left elbow leaned casually against the tree with her hand behind her head and her chest jutting forwards. Her breasts were covered, Lady Godiva style, with long strands of her wavy blonde hair. She looked at him with impunity, daring him to take a shot.

 

He dropped the tripod and fumbled with the camera, but like the metallic insect it resembled, the camera had a mind of its own. The lens automatically adjusted, reading Kristen’s body with sensors that almost seemed aroused by her beauty as the mechanical parts growled into position. The giant flash, of its own accord, twisted on its stand attached to the camera. The shutter snapped and the flash burst in the sunlight.

 

“Oh you’re using the flash to fill in because the sun is behind me,” Kristen said. “And you’re getting highlights in my hair. I like that.”

 

Stanley, pretending he knew what she was talking about, nodded.

 

With her left hand she spread the sarong skirt a bit to reveal more leg and let some of the sunlight glow through the sheer fabric. She posed with a demure downward glance as a bit more of her hair slipped from her breasts. The camera hummed and clicked as if devouring her.

 

Then with a bold gaze directly into the lens she used the back of her hands to brush away the strands of hair over her nipples. Still watching the camera, she began to undo the knot of the sarong.

 

Stanley kept his face close to the view finder screen and licked his lips as the camera captured the firm ripe beauty of her breasts. She turned to the tree as if to embrace it. The sarong dropped down to give a side view of her glorious ass. She lifted one edge of fabric as if to cover her breasts but she couldn’t bear to do it. She gave the camera a challenging look.

 

Suddenly she opened the sarong wide, smiling shyly and keeping her body in a side view to the camera as if to hide the nakedness of her pussy.

 

The camera’s willfulness was making Stanley nervous but the sight of the naked playmate in the bright sun was sending another message to his libido. And the physical manifestation of his libido was sending another message to the future Miss May.

 

She stood, nude and glorious, on the glorious and pristine beach and in the warm sun she felt sexy. The camera hummed in appreciation of her well toned body and erotic curves and sensual glances and the flash went off a dozen more times, each time giving off a sharp tone like a wolf whistle. Kristen felt like a playmate, was ready to be a playmate and she was enthralled by the busy camera and by the massive erection barely hidden by Stanley’s jeans. Sure she had a rule about bad drivers getting into her pants, but right now she wasn’t wearing any pants. And god, she felt amatory as the sun kissed her delicate skin.

 

“Let me see the shots,” she said finally, moving away from the tree to a more shady spot.

 

Stanley bounced over, drawn to the magnetic aura of a naked warm woman.  She held out both hands at arms length as if to stop him. “Give me the camera,” she commanded. Stanley stopped and handed over the metal insect. As she took possession of the mechanical creature her breasts seemed to lift themselves up to Stanley like they were saying hello.

 

“There were some blankets in the van,” she said, taking charge. “We’ll shoot on the sand.”

 

Stanley nodded like an eager hound dog. His eyes drank in her naked breasts and the flawless lines of her figure and the graceful flow of skin from her chest down to her navel and then to the baby smooth sex that seemed to tease him from between her thighs.

 

“Go get them,” she said finally, with a tone that sounded like “Fetch.”

 

While Stanley was obediently scurrying up the bluff, Kristen set the camera menu to preview and, even on the tiny screen, she could tell that she looked delectable in the photos, like an erotic goddess worshipping --no not worshipping--  seducing the sun.

 

When Stanley returned she wasn’t holding the camera anymore; it was now mounted on the tripod he had dropped earlier. She had the sarong modestly draped over her shoulders as she looked through the viewfinder. She heard his approach but did not look up. “Put the blankets there.” She pointed a couple of yards away from the camera. “Spread them out in a square. Good.

Stay where you are.”

 

Kristen dropped the sarong and advanced slowly, like one of those old shampoo commercials where the model struts towards the camera from a great distance and slowly comes into focus except in this case the model was completely naked and the light shimmering around her bounced off her blonde hair and moist skin and created some kind of sex-ray that seduced anybody within a mile of her.

 

Stanley was well seduced; he didn’t notice the long cable release she dragged behind her.

 

“Stanley, you are an idiot,” she said coldly. She was close enough now that she could place one finger over his mouth to hush his protest. “It’s a fact. And you are a very bad liar. And you are a very very bad driver. No, don’t say a word.” She moved her hand from his lips to his zipper. She held the tab but did not pull it down.

 

“Now, ordinarily I would ignore liars, not give them the time of day. And I can’t stand stupid men. Close your mouth; you look like a stupid dog. And most of all, I would never, ever, ever have sex with a bad driver.” To emphasize the rule on driving she gave the bulge in his pants a squeeze as she enunciated each syllable.

 

“But Stanley, I like the shots the camera took. Oh shut up. I know all you did was hold the camera. It did the work.” She paused and sighed. “It made love to me. And for that I may be able to forgive your nincompoopery.”

 

She removed her hand from his crotch and took a step back to regard him. Her naked breasts were firm and high and still singing out “Hello Stanley, you idiot.”

 

“Stanley,” Kristen said as she watched him ogle her breasts, “We are going to let the camera take more pictures. And posing for these pictures is going to make me very aroused. And later, Stanley, be advised, you are going to do amazing and slightly frightening things to me by way of compensation for missing the appointment we had with the real photographer.”

 

“Oh, right, yes! Of course.

 

“Shut up Stanley.” The future Miss May favored him with a brain-melting smile.

 

She turned her head back to the camera and took a shot of her naked ass glistening in the sun and her golden hair glistening over her shoulders. She stepped forward and posed on the blanket gazing directly into the lens and pleading to be fucked. Stanley was in the background drooling.

 

Kristen posed and vamped for a while longer; she and the camera were in perfect harmony and she knew that she only pressed the cable release when the camera told her to so. Finally she turned to Stanley. “Come here,” she commanded coldly. “Put your arm around my waist.” She positioned her bare feet over his with the precision of a ballerina en pointe.

 

Stanley complied, breathing in the raw sex of her glowing body. Using his arm as a fulcrum and bracing her feet against his ankles she bent back as far as she could go. Her breasts rose in the air and she pulled Stanley’s face down to the delicate arc of her graceful throat. His lips touched her warm skin. Heaven.

 

He kissed her throat and she groaned but when his mouth opened wide and engulfed the smooth and warm expanse of her left breast, she let out a sharp cry and then her body began to rock on the fulcrum of his arm; her bare feet slipped off of his and were barely finding purchase on the blanket. He sucked the flesh and his tongue searched over the round mound and firm nipple and savored all the delicate flavors of her skin. His teeth began to work with a voracious rapidity and she cried when she couldn’t stand it and pulled his head off her only to reward his mouth with her other breast. Back and forth his head bobbed between the two heavenly orbs as she rocked and writhed in his arms.

 

Her hands, still holding and using the cable release managed to get his pants open and Stanley was a good multi-tasker and managed to wriggle the pants down around his ankles. She was merciless as she ripped open his jacket and tore his shirt to shreds but still he gripped her and sucked on her so the jacket hung in tatters on his shoulders.

 

He took a particularly deep pull on her left nipple, seeming to suck the hard and delicious nub and all the flesh around it all the way down his throat. She screamed with pleasure. But then she imagined the camera capturing shots of her letting the handyman have his way with her elegant body. “You’re such and idiot,” she complained, not sure if she meant herself or Stanley.

 

With no warning at all, Stanley sealed his mouth over hers and silenced her on the spot. Even at that moment she still found herself wanting to balk at a situation that continued to trouble her. But his kiss was insistent, and the stunning rush of pleasure it brought her to him and broke down all remaining resistance. She released herself into the bliss of tasting him and soon became just as demanding as he was. She felt like a teenager experiencing her first kiss in secret, and she was reacting with an ardor she had never felt before. He squeezed her in his powerful arms, kneading her back and shoulders with rough caresses. All of her former resistance now induced violent surges of desire in Kristen, and she found herself gasping for breath in the merciless grip of uncontainable passion. She wanted to bite that mouth, wrap his curls around her fingers, consume this strong young body. Her breasts began to swell, her thighs began to burn, and her lower belly was contracting with desire. She wanted to straddle and ride him like a demon.

 

She pushed him away. And gasped for air. In an attempt at getting control of her life she frantically tried to straighten her shimmering hair.

 

“What the fuck?” Stanley whined; his tumescence extended from his groin in a perfect right angle and pointed at the lusciously naked girl. J’accuse.

 

Kristen stood boldly in the sun; her nipples stretched out to Stanley as her firm breast heaved in her desperate attempt to calm herself. She looked down at the erection proffering itself to her and for a moment she could feel it rock hard as it did what a rock hard cock had to do inside her body. OK, Stanley was an idiot and a bad driver, but darn it, he had a nice cock. She lay back down on the blanket, lifting her magnificent torso on her elbows. “Come here,” she said, her voice gliding to him in the sultry sun.

 

Kristen shivered a bit as his hand came to rest on her bare midriff. He let his fingers warm against her body, sliding his tongue against hers. They didn’t hurry, Stanley and Kristen. They were together, they took all the time they needed. No amount of time was too much to devote to making the other aroused. It was the only thing that they were really concerned with, this making and taking of pleasure with each other.

 

As his skin warmed with the touch of her, Stanley slid his hand down her belly. She gasped a little as his fingers brushed the tender flesh above her groin. At this point, every little contact was absolutely to die for. Kristen writhed against the sand beneath their blanket as Stanley stroked her sensitive skin. He moved his hand inch by inch, until his fingers finally slid between the lips of her naked pussy.

He gasped, realizing how wet she had become with mere proximity to him.

 

He slid his fingers up and down along the length of the hot, wet slit, and Kristen closed her eyes, savoring every moment. She could feel the blood rushing to her groin as the pleasure of

Stanley’s touch overcame her. She felt lightheaded with longing, wanting to suspend the moment and advance it.

Stanley rested his cheek against Kristen’s, taking his time. His fingers

felt for every fold, every inch of Kristen’s pussy. He loved the mewing and murmuring as her haughty attitude gave way to uncontrolled lust.

Stanley poised his fingers against

Kristen’s wet pussy, and she wrapped her arms around his neck in anticipation.

 

As she pressed her moist lips against his neck, he slid his fingers into her. The penetration sent Kristen into a dizzy spell of pleasure. Stanley plunged his digits further into her dark chamber, tickling her in the best of possible ways.

 

Kristen kissed his neck deeply, loving the feel of his fingers inside of her. He knew exactly how to feel for those spots that drove her wild, and she couldn’t help but gasp as he played her pussy like a virtuoso.

 

Suddenly, Stanley’s strong thumb rested against Kristen’s clit. She cried out, surprised by the intensity of her pleasure. Stanley rubbed her aching clit as he thrust his fingers into her pussy. Kristen was sure she would pass out from the intense pleasure, sure that she’d never be able to keep her head on while he touched her so expertly. The doubled sensation was driving her absolutely crazy there on the beach.

 

Stanley kneaded her clit passionately. Applying just the right amount of force, and faster by the moment. Kristen wrapped her fingers together behind Stanley’s back, digging her teeth into the shoulder of his jacket. She was racing toward orgasm as Stanley flicked her clit with killer precision. Stanley bore down on the tender nub and urged her forward. She felt the inevitable, staggering pressure building, knew that it had to be released. Stanley delivered a swish of the wrist that sent Kristen sailing into orgasm.

 

She came into his waiting hand, moaning into the wind as she thrashed below him.

Kristen rode the waves of her orgasm as the ocean broke against the sand just yards from them. The cacophony of crashing waves was not loud enough to drown out Kristen’s screams of pleasure.

 

A great shudder ran through Kristen’s body as the last jolt of orgasm surged through her. She lay back, spent.

 

And of course it went further than that. The caressing began, each move more daring than the next, until he was soon bending her in  positions worthy of an acrobat. They wrestled over the blanket, their bodies slick with sweat as the sun kissed their skin. Stanley’s mouth and hands were everywhere, licking, biting, caressing. Each kiss on her breasts sent her into spasms and head-twisting cries of ecstasy. Her hands roamed over him too but she only teased his cock by letting it caress over her moist skin as they writhed together.

 

He lay on top of her, covering the comparatively frail Kristen with his massive body as he hugged her hard. She was impatient, though—she wanted to feel him inside of her, to be liberated on this sunny beach. But he chose to make her wait. Sliding his hands under her, he lifted her up, leaving only her shoulders to rest on the blanket. Kristen’s legs were spread so the young man could kiss her thighs, sliding his tongue up her leg until it brushed against her famished pussy.

He then placed her back down over his folded legs and grabbed her waist. His large hands began massaging her, traveling up her body until they reached her shoulders, pulling them up so he could kiss her face, eyes, and neck. She begged him to make love to her.

 

Instead, he gently laid her legs back down on the

blanket and got up. Kristen watched as he headed over to where his pants had been kicked away; he found a pocket and pulled a flask out. Bringing it back with him, he knelt between the legs she had parted in offering and told her to close her eyes. The sun’s heat warmed her shivering skin, and then she felt  something rich and oily being poured between her breasts and down her belly. Stanley dabbed a few fingers in this fragrant oil and gently rubbed it over her nipples and breasts, gradually moving to her shoulders, arms, armpits, and then down to her belly. He poured a little more oil over the sides of her waist, causing her little shivers of pleasure, and then he moved further down still until he reached her now gaping lips. She was startled by the sensation of his fingers tracing the contours of her sex. She felt the oil mixing with her own sweet dew and smelled the heat-charged odor that melted off her skin. Lying down on top of her again, he rubbed his skin against hers to anoint himself, sliding himself all over Kristen’s body as she took the opportunity to slather some oil herself onto his gorgeous back.

 

Stanley picked up the bottle again and pulled Miss May’s pelvis a little closer toward him. His hands descended her abdomen and slowly, ever so slowly, he inserted a finger inside her while his tongue savored the creamy mixture that now bathed her inner thighs.

 

When Stanley’s lips finally rested on her pussy, it felt like an electric shock. Determined to drive her insane with desire it seemed, he tickled her with his tongue, his hands still flowing over her lustrously oiled body.

 

He became completely focused, tasting every part of her with his hot wet mouth as if her flesh were tender, tasty fruit. When he finally sensed the time was right, he pulled her up from the blanket and made her lean against a palm tree. Without any apparent effort, he lifted her up and delicately placed her pussy over the tip of his firmly erect penis, sliding her down on top of him as he impaled her very slowly, inch by inch.

 

 He ran his hands all over her, lifting her hips as if she were light as a feather and then gently entering her, fixing his lust filled eyes on hers before beginning to thrust. He started out gently but was soon shoving harder and harder until they were moving at such an infernal rate that the sand began shifting under his feet and the fronds of the palm tree danced in harmony with the couple’s fucking. Finally they collapsed back onto the blanket.

 

Adrenaline surged through her body, causing her heart to pound dangerously for a few seconds. Kristen and Stanley were now lying on the ground, groping away.

 

Kristen couldn’t get enough of him. She went crazy for his mouth, his taste, his skin, his amazing shoulders, the untiring arms that held her up and guided her onto him. After a rapturous slide, she felt the full length of him crammed inside of her. Staying very still, he was content to just watch her for a moment. Then he smiled and kissed her as he began to lift her up and down over his cock in a tantalizing rhythm. Her legs were wrapped around his waist now, and as she gripped his body, she felt her oiled and stiffly erect nipples being crushed against his chest. Kristen’s body floated against his as if it had lost all substance and was now submerged in a soft, warm cloud. They were moaning in unison as Stanley sped up his rhythm, and they came together in a shuddering, mind-blowing climax. Kristen felt the secrets of the universe explode in her head, leaving a trail of brilliant, cometary ripples of ecstasy.

 

Their orgasms crashed together like gladiators with wills of their own. They played cat and mouse – or cat and dog, perhaps – from one corner of the world to another. Where one went, so also the other came, and mayhem and bombs and conflagrations inevitably followed. They fought, they fled, they raged, and everything changed. It was as if the world was elastic, and always returned to the same pleasurable, brilliant shape.

 

He shouted with rage and then there was one of those awful silences and they both heard and knew, knew it was genuine. In that moment, each and both of them, singularly and together knew that complete  ecstasy was inevitable. And then Kristen screamed. Stanley never heard such screams. He did not see depths of her bliss. He was in the eye of the storm. He went to switch off the machine, the juggernaut of  his cock pounding into her endlessly but it was too late.

 

Too late. The third stage began. They began to know everything. The air was thick. Everything seemed to become solid around them, safe in their little cocoon of lust. They watched the world around them become bountiful. Bursting with life. And yet they did not fall. Their bodies continued.

 

He crammed load after load into her sweet tightness; she scratched and clawed and cursed and howled and came over and over, the red fury in the comets of her ecstasy exploding against each white hot comet of his orgasm. She screamed and snarled and kicked and clawed. She came again and again and he shot into her like a sex machine designed to fuck her to death. And then her spine arced and her mouth opened wide in one more silent howl of impossible ecstasy and she sank into oblivion.

 

Stanley closed his eyes and let loose one more glorious long flowing blast of his seed deep into her and then he collapsed onto his back and gasped for air. The sun kept him from passing out so he staggered over to the camera. Jesus she had set it on automatic and it had captured frame after frame of their fucking. He shoved the camera into the bag and then looked for his pants and shirt and jacket. Kristen glowed like a sun drenched goddess. Her eyes were still shut and she was breathing as if in a deep sleep.

 

He struggled into is clothes and hoisted the camera bag onto his shoulder. “Come on,” he said to the still comatose girl. But she was still fucked into oblivion. With a sigh he hoisted her naked body over his other shoulder and zigzagged slowly up the bluff.

 

Driving with a naked and comatose playmate strapped into the passenger seat proved to be quite a challenge as the other drivers kept pulling up for a look. Explaining to the front office why they never made it to the official shoot was even harder but by then Kristen had awakened and she made a big deal about showing off the contents of the camera. Everybody was pleased by the centerfold quality shots at the palm tree and everybody loved the self-portraits Kristen had taken of herself, but when they got to the shots of the playmate fucking the handyman everybody was speechless.

 

Kristen did eventually get to go to Mexico for her shoot and, alas for Stanley, they did not use his shots in Miss May’s official centerfold spread. He did get some very nice pictures for his scrapbook though and Kristen even let him drive her to the beach again on one of her days off. And even though he was such a bad driver she still let him into her pants.


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