Dripping Wet

Dripping Wet Dripping Wet

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Two college trampettes are caught skinny dipping by their teacher. The punishment for breaching curfew was breaking the pair in.


Two college trampettes are caught skinny dipping by their teacher. The punishment for breaching curfew was breaking the pair in.


Submitted: June 25, 2017

A A A | A A A


Submitted: June 25, 2017



I was doing the leisurely male visualising of my Molly’s pussy as I made the 1.00am rounds of the girl’s cabins. I had had enough of this particular school camp and wanted my wife’s missing body. Why the fuck had I agreed to chaperon this school camp? I hated school camps.

There was some soft feminine twittering but the lights were all out and no one was wandering the general camping grounds in skimpy summer pj’s. Too bad that actually. I was in loco parentis. Frickin fully responsible on the second last night of a ten day educational and recreational trip with hormone filled nubile senior college girls: Melbourne, Canberra and finishing in Sydney. Oh the responsibility and the temptation: mental smut. Thank god there was no Big Brother with thought control. I would have been convicted of multiple indecent thought crime the whole trip. I needed my Molly’s coochie now.

I needed a fuck. God I missed Molly. Shit I had two nights to wait. I did the wider camping ground perimeter: the just in case for the known smokers who had been kept well in check on this trip. This accommodation was of a good standard on the Northern beaches of Sydney; but it was sprawling and there was a sandy area nearby through the thin scrub tracks, behind man-made tussock dunes and it was a warm humid sticky nuts in your pants night.

I heard girly twittering again and some splashy sounds through the scrub. Teacher’s intuition took my direction naturally and quietly towards it. Yeah two slightly different giggles and way too much splashing for one. The temptation of a moonlight swim outweighing any teacher’s sanctions: if they were caught.

Well they were about to be caught and I didn’t have to wonder for long; who it might be.

I was through the tea tree scrub line to the thin sandy shore. The tide was out. The moon was full. It was instantly obvious both girls were skinny dipping: Bree Marshall and Sara Rhodes. A pair of good looking college peroxide blondes. The sort of college girls who arses look great in school uniforms and whose tits look better in free dress on school trips and well you’d love a peep hole in any shower block at any camping ground to check out their real flesh details.

Only their shoulders and heads were above the calm bay water. They were now either idly treading or maybe just standing up to their shoulders in sort of deepish water. They were a wet glossy youthful sultry pair. No; actually a slutty combo.

The moonlight was showing the water trickling and beading from their long wet hair, dripping over their smooth youthful faces and running down their necks and flowing off their shapely shoulders.

Then just beautiful as they started to splash each other. So frickin carefree. They hadn’t seen me. They had moved forward I realised as they both sprang up a bit with arms flaying water at each other and the pair mouthing softy in tandem: “You bitch.”

But all I glimpsed what titty in sea wet profile; perfect perky, pouty, bouncy, jouncy boobs: ripe ready young marshmellow melons in need of hands to squeeze them. Their nipples had that upward cool water hardness or were aroused firm: out of natural exuberant nakedness. I watched. I enjoyed. My mind was clicking faster than any camera and recording images for filthy mental playback.

I was happy to call myself pervert and so would of you. I was witness to double youthful titty exposure.

When Sara saw me and went “Oh”, Bree looked directly at the sand strip too and her potty mouth released: “Shit its Dalrymple.”

There they both were: nubile minxes with the water lapping under their titties. Oh how I wished for a moment I’d been that touching water. Both nubiles at a lovely equal five foot five. The ebb and eddy of the water playing with the base of their chest muffins. Their hard pink cherry nipples needing sucking or fingers or goddamn something. They didn’t deserve to just stand to attention un-man handled.  Wet boobs always need company. They invite touch. They signal raunchy.

I stupidly went into auto teacher control mode. Fuck years of training: though I’d probably seen more than I ever would of this stunning pair.

“I want you out immediately and don’t get me started on a duty of care rant” I said. “I will turn around; get out and get covered; pronto.”

God I didn’t want to turn around; I wanted to watch them both wade slowly naked out of the water and gradually reveal their nubile perfection, full front on and of course my eyes peeling south as the water receded revealing their wonderful hidden girly bits. I was imaging it because I knew the opportunity was passing for: forever.

Of course I had done the male fantasy contemplation: often around school imaging them naked: not both together like now but casual daydreams as I saw their individual arses exiting a classroom, their titties in profile at a locker, their thighs in a school skirt coming down the corridor stairwells, their boobs bouncing slightly when exerting themselves, gorgeously sweaty, passing my checkpoint in the school cross country.

I could have turned and checked they were getting out. I told myself it wouldn’t completely tag me dirty old man. Who cared if it did? God I wanted to and what was stopping me?: Molly, the School Board, Vocational Responsibility?

“Are you covered” I said not turning around.

“Oh yes we are “they twittered in tandem.

I turned around. Technically something was covered. They both had their hands over their eyes. They were otherwise beautifully naked. Fetching close shapely titties. Appealing curvy bellies that only nubiles have. Lovely bewitching male eye drawing trimmed dark pussies.

Then they hit me together with their sultry conniving blue eyes. They dropped their hands from their faces but there was no modest tit or pube covering like Botticelli’s Venus. They were graphically naked, legs slightly apart and awesomely trampy with hands on their frickin breathtaking girly hips.

Their boobs: they knew they were guy traps. Thank the lord it was the end of the school year not the start; they weren’t technically jailbait. Their pussy’s: well they were natural cock magnets but their everything you see is available message was given through their cheeky eyes. Sara and Bree hit my eyes together. You take in so much so quickly when the sight is exciting. A cute mole on Sara’s right breast, fascinating, making her nipples rigid as they met the air and the slight night breeze after being under their watery cover, now exposed to me as pink and playful as new born kitten noses.

Bree had a belly button piercing. The moonlight glinting off it but it couldn’t draw my eyes from her dark trimmed fuzz patch with its crinkled crumpled clit hood and labial folds just peeking out: waiting for sex.

Dripping wet water nymphettes. But sexual alert sirens. So coy.

It was my call or was it? They had made and were still making their sexual statement. I had the wanting. Did I have the balls? Career on the line, Hostile Parents, Molly, all positioned in my mind as the consequences versus moonlight licking over taut teasing femflesh. I was jealous of the bloody moon.

“Oh screw school” I said pausing no longer. I was intent on debauching both of them in a mental foreplay instance.

Bree and Sara were watching for my reaction. They saw it even before I moved forward into their dual personal space because the boner in my pants: the usual male give away.

Fingers and touch. The sex life of fingers. My cock tugged out of my open zip down pants. My nuts flipped out. Bree fondling my scrotum. Sara grabbing my shaft and was tugging. My left index finger in Sara’s quickly moist pussy slit. My right index finger rimming Bree’s wonderfully sensitive arsehole.

The rising value of the occasion is in the intensity: the forced waiting was strange as all our genitals were primed but three minds make them wait. Evolution hasn’t caught up with the Twenty-first century and the crazed delay we now insist upon; copious foreplay. The primal ram and thrust becomes modern sexual brinkmanship or womanship: the delirious pleasure of ramping touch to unbearable levels.

My pants and underdaks were flopping around my ankles. Bree has my cock in her mouth. Sara is under and between my legs; behind me and licking my arse. I mean where does an eighteen year old learn that and she knew what she was doing: rimming and sticking her tongue in my butt hole. The minx blowing wafts of teasing air into me: so frickin good. And the head job I was getting. Bree was a trained cock slut. All I could do was groan and groan. Her lips were encircling my pecker; she was gobbling and gulping in a continuous wet mouthful action; my rigid stiffy; there was her head bobbing as she was wolfing dick and gorging her tonsils on my prick head.

My pleasure dip occurred. My penis plunging as I dunked my cock in Sara’s pussy warmth. My pecker bathed in her instant heated creaminess. The tart was of course better than I had daydreamt imagined, the reality if achieved always is. Fuck I was dogging her; the bitch bent over: supported by Bree, who was fondling her titties.

Mushy enfolding cock comforting flesh; her pussy absolute cock delight. I was primal spearing, man jabbing, shove thrusting and basically heaving my body into hers.

Sara was a pure reduced receptacle of sexual need as I dogged her. Youth condensed to pussy. Oh I could have pumped away in her wonderful warm slit all night: except I was a bastard and wanted to test out both their arseholes.

So as I leisurely rammed the slutette, my finger went to spreading her pink puckered arse slot. Sara started really moaning. She moaned even more as Bree realised what I was doing and got a finger in her friend’s arse too: along with mine. Talk about a sexy sight. My cock pummelling the lass from behind. My finger delving in her bum tightness and her girlfriend jagging a spare finger in her butt as well to up the pleasure ante.

It was Bree the whorette who guided my cock into her friend’s arsehole willingly. A youthful arsehole given like it was a natural action, just another sweet orifice seeking delight, uninhibited, wanting and no longer waiting. Gripping cock like it was its duty or its universal responsibility to add that extra delight to a cock’s function.

Of course I banged her arse with full authority of my duty of care. My duty to pleasure and butt fuck mindless a willing young nubile college lass. I was banging her arse, the full cock stiff jolts, the barging jabs of tight pleasure, the lurch and jerk of a happy dick catapulting out of control in a sweet, lovable butthole.

“Oh yeah” moaned Bree as she steered one of my fingers into her own butthole at the same time. She was wild. I wanted her butt at the same time I was butt fucking probably the tightest youngest arse of my life. Yet I wanted another butt too.

And I wanted it even more as Bree got her own finger digging around spreading her constriction with my finger. Yes our fingers were playing together in her pink expanding starfish. So kinky. Yet so arousing.

Sara had her fingers massing over her clitty. God she was bent over. Only one hand of mine on her hip: sort of holding her. Luckily she had her legs well spread and her toes buried in the sand for support. The three of us were get manic.

Thankfully Sara got herself off with a combination of fast clit work and continuous ram jamming cock thrusts in her butthole. She eased off my cock satisfied.

God my cock was stiff and needy. It poised unused for a few brief seconds.

Then: “OH fuck” I groaned taking in the pleasure sensation of Bree’s tight arse. So much penis happiness in her immediate bewitching constriction.

But only after I had enjoyed her pussy doggy style for a couple of bliss filled minutes: because pussy fucking is life, you can’t help it, the necessary function of a penis requiring the tubular drenched viscosity on a regular basis. I was trapped in the subtle enveloping and pliable giving of stretchy coochie flesh: penis home base in short. Yet my brain drew my dick to her arse. Bree’s so tight pucker was awesomely liberating of my maleness. My shaft greedily accepting the compressed hold; so tight and her private starfish shaped by cock.

That was the difference I realised: cock shaped anal sex while a girl pussy always shapes vaginal sex. It hit me. I was shaping her sexual need completely and mine too and it was made even raunchier by Sara dry humping behind me. The trampette grinding her pubic zone into my butt and holding me as I held the bent Bree: who had her own fingers ploughing deep into her own pussy. The fucky squelchy sound so compelling that it made me jab into her arse even deeper.

I was working her willing back canal with my hard ready rod and her body was rocking with delight. Her petite moans of satisfaction adding to her pleasure and mine.  Then her voice muffled as Sara gave her: her own muff to eat out.

Every body part of Bree now promising pleasure, every body cavity engaged in gratification, every sweet tarty hole of her being delivering and distributing the sweet bliss of sex: my cock conveying the breaking crack constriction nubiles actually crave, her own fingers frigging her anxious clitty: as only a girls fingers can deliver an orgasm and her tongue and face buried in her friends muff. Sara rubbing and grinding: filling Bree’s delicate face and mouth with musk and quim wetness.

God knows where I got the will to withdraw from her arse and not cream her. But I urged Sara to hold her face and stretch Bree’s mouth open. I thought I was debauching the tartlette but she was a cum whore. Her blue eyes were so expressive, her mouth and tongue greedy as I spurted waves of warm jizz in her mouth. No shame, just glee, grateful glee.

My cock was dripping wet; glistening in the moonlight; till they sucked it off together. A tandem clearing of the evidence.

A couple of minutes later: I was pulling up my jocks and pants. They were twittering like college girls near the scrub line: getting on their bikini tops and sarongs.

Time to reassert control or fuck knew where this would lead. I sternly said: “Don’t break the curfew or accommodation boundary again. Now get to your cabin.”

“Or what” said Bree; her hands cupped under her bikini top: “You’ll punish us again?”

Sara turned around and flipped up her sarong and revealing her loveable tight butt cheeks and said: “I need a spanking now or I’m not going to bed.”

“Geez give my cock a few minutes “I said.

I sensed youthful disappointment in their combined sighs.

Then teacher inspiration hit me: quality dirty minded thinking on the run: “Care to skinny dip ladies” and I tugged off my t-shirt and dropped my dacks and underwear and hit the water. The refreshing water.

And behind me: twittering and giggling in a compelling sexily nubile girly way.

As I turned I saw both Bree and Sara drop their sarongs and shed their bikini tops and cavort, wonderfully stunningly naked towards the water to join me.

We were all playfully dripping wet, god I loved round two skinny dipping foreplay because more saturated shameless sexual wetness was to follow under the moonlight. School camps: I loved school camps.


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