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In case you missed it, Chapter 18, about Karen losing a Bikini Hogtie wrestling match to another girl and what she and Greg got up to in her bound up state, appeared in the BDSM section.
Most Sundays that Greg did his Surf lifesaving duty he was on patrol – looking after swimmers in the water. In the background on these summer Sunday mornings, Nippers – the junior programme intended to get kids interested in becoming future members – was also running further up the beach.
Nippers had become something of a runaway success – as much a social venue for the parents as something to get the kids out of the house and doing exercise. It was usually run by the older members.
However, occasionally Greg would be asked to help out – being delegated one of the activities or age groups to look after with beach games. This morning Greg and Kate had been allocated the job of teaching the youngest recruits the game of flag racing. This is like a game of musical chairs, except here there is an ever diminishing number of flags that participants are aiming to grab to stay in the game.
From the outset I was impressed by how well Greg communicated with the youngsters. When addressing them as a group he projected a loud but friendly voice using simple but clear words that could be heard not just by the kids, but also by the parents in the outer ring. But when addressing an individual child, he bent down to look them in the eye and used a quieter confident but unchallenging voice. The kids certainly responded to him and did everything he asked of them.
He was also true to his beliefs in the way he encouraged along those kids who were not naturals at it rather than merely trying to develop champions out of these who were.
First up Kate demonstrated how you lie face down on the sand until the starting single, whereupon you leap up, turn around and run towards the flag finishing with a flying dive at it. Kate of course executed it to perfection. Then I heard him ask –
“OK, kids, who’d like to see an adult that has never done it before try that out?”
Not realising that I was for this purpose a full on adult, I got a bit of a shock when the kids exclamation of support resulted in him turning towards me and asking the masses –
“Will we ask Karen to have a go?”
Their loud response told me I was trapped; Greg would pay a price for this later! I don’t think he was factoring in that my brief bikini was much less secure for this sort of thing than Kate’s club one piece. Still having accepted the role I was determined to put on a good show. And so I would have had my dive not brought me up nearly a metre short of the flag, leaving me crawling over the sand until I could finally lay my hands on it. You don’t slide very well in sand (or at least I don’t). Then before I got up I had to go through a mental check list making sure all the parts of my bikini were in their correct place.
While doing that I heard Greg announce
“A big thankyou to Karen for showing us perfectly how to recover from a misjudged dive.”
This was followed by a round of applause mixed with laughter from the kids. Just as I was getting up, Greg asked the crowd –
“Will we ask Kate and Karen to have a match against each other?”
Again I was trapped by the crowds support for the suggestion.
Even though Kate had all the advantages in the match, my competitive instincts came up and made sure I was going to try my hardest to beat her. And for one delusional minute I thought I might when running towards the flag, the tunnel vision focusing on it showed no sign of Kate either in front of me or just to my side. I dived for it, already counting a surprise victory when Kate’s hand suddenly appeared over the top of my head and snatched the flag out from under me. We ended up in a pile, Kate on top of me clutching the flag of victory in her hand. She whispered –
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”
This time I did have to make an adjustment or two to my bikini before I was decent enough to get up off the sand.
The rest of the morning passed in a busy blur. First Greg gave them a couple of turns with enough flags for everyone. Then he re-sorted them to make sure stronger players were alongside each other – giving the less strong ones a go at staying in the games for longer.
Eventually the Nippers programme was over for the morning and I had Greg to myself again; any thoughts of homicide for having roped me in having long since passed.
By now you know about how powerful the hormonal forces that Greg unleashed in me were. Latent maternal hormones that had been dormant in my body had been brought to the boil by my feelings for Greg. While still having a long term plan, thoughts of marriage and having children flooded unguarded section of my brain. They were thoughts I kept carefully suppressed least I scare Greg away with them. But seeing Greg doing such a great job of being mecidiyeköy escort a role model for and leader of the kids had brought them rushing back. As always I tried to ignore them – to bury them back inside me.
Nippers had started early, so we’d not yet been for our morning run. Predictably Greg wasn’t going to let me get away without it so we set out along the beach; our pace somewhat slower as the day had started to heat up. By now my fitness was such that we could easily converse while running at a steady jog and so our time running passed in pleasurable conversation.
We’d been running for quite a while when the conversation turned to the morning’s events. As I gave expression to my thoughts about how he’d handled the kids, I wasn’t really being manipulative when I commented to him –
“Greg you’re really great with the kids. I really admired how you dealt with them. They all look up to you. I can see you’re going to make a great father one day.”
“They’re a good bunch of kids. Still I’ve seen some of them be a bit of a hand-full with their parents. I think as an outsider they give you a bit more respect. Anyhow, it’s easier to be a good parent when you’ve got good kids. If you’re the mother of my children then I don’t doubt they’ll be fantastic kids.”
It took a second for the implications of what Greg had just said to sink in. Then it was like someone had found that pool of boiling hormones and thrown a hand grenade in spraying them everywhere from my crutch to my head. My brothers often spoke of something causing an ‘instant hard-on’; an erection that goes from nothing to 110% in a nano-second and by implication it being one so powerful – so sexually frustrating – that it seemingly demands some sort of immediate attention. As a sister I had simply rolled my eyes at such talk and dismissed it as silly boys stuff. Now I had the female equivalent of that with a vengeance.
‘Lady-boners’ Kate calls them; usually as she leans in to me as we’re sitting on the beach, points out some new to town tourist guy and asks –
“Does watching him give you a lady-boner too?”
Whether she was aware of it or not, the question was usually accompanied by her thrusting her breasts teasingly forward and spreading her legs just far enough apart to ensure the target had a clear view of the crutch of her bikini; a smile ready to spread across her face the moment the target’s eyes were inevitably distracted by the sight she was presenting to him.
Her taste in guys is questionable at the best of time; handsome sure, but there’s often something about them gives me the creeps. So I usually just give her some neutral response – ‘he’s OK’ or something like that. Being near Greg on the other-hand is a constant source of lady-boners for me. Even just being in his presence is enough to cause a low-level state of arousal; a sense of sexual warmth in my groin that never leaves me. And as for when we unleash our passions on each other …
But this was different. This was a lady-boner to end all lady-boners. It overwhelmed the suppressive rational side of my brain with confusing desperate neediness. I wanted Greg; I wanted him physically and I wanted him now; but we were in the middle of a public beach. Sure we were on a quiet deserted part of the beach a long way from anywhere or anyone else – but it was open beach just the same, not the bushes up the back where we usually let our passions lose.
You can’t run as well with the swelling in your crutch competing for your body’s blood supply. My pace slipped back a bit causing me to drop behind Greg. It didn’t take long for Greg to notice. He was looking over his shoulder seeing if I was OK. I just wanted some time to try and run off my arousal or otherwise get it back under control; for the controlled side of my brain to fight against acting on my impulses. So I told him to keep going; falling in directly behind him to make it harder for him to look around at me – as that just tempted me further.
That was a mistake; a big mistake. Now my eyes had tunnel vision on his body; its athletic frame; its muscles working in unison as they propelled him along at an effortless pace; his tight little bottom barely covered by his swimmers as his glutes worked magically within them. With every impact with the sand a spray of sweat flew off from his body; flooding my senses with the pheromones his body was putting out; stirring me further. As I watched a bead of sweat collected in the small of his back and ran down the top of his bum crack which was just visible over to top of his swimmers. My eyes undressed him; watching the bead progressed as it slid down through that beautiful bottom. My mind conjured up an imagined naked front view of him; a giant unyielding erection beating time against his stomach with every step of his jog. The desire was tearing me apart.
Oblivious to this Greg suddenly slowed to a stop and started to turn to face nişantaşı escort me.
“I think that’s far enough, maybe we should turn b…”
His words were cut short as I barrelled in to him my arms out before me completing his body’s turn and pushing him stumbling backwards until he ended up falling on his back in the soft sand. Instantly I was over him, my sweaty damp thighs straddling his sweaty damp crutch. Before he even had time to realise what was happening my hand dropped to the drawstring of his swimmers, released it and then slid inside to wrap my fingers sensuously around the still flaccid package it contained. As I bent over to kiss him I felt the package surge with power; forcing my fingers apart and pushing against the length of my wrist as – like a new universe being born – it underwent it’s process of cosmic expansion.
His scent invaded my body; raw, sweaty pheromones driving my passion harder; increasing the urgency of my need. Standing back over him I dragged his swimmers roughly – almost violently – down the length of his legs before tossing them carelessly aside. By the time I’d knelt back over him I’d already pulled both side ties of my bikini bottoms and tossed it in the same direction.
If Greg wanted a demonstration of what it meant if I ever got to tell him that I sometimes wanted to feel as though I’d been taken, he was getting more than a little of that now.
In a single motion as I lowered myself back down on him, I lifted his shaft upright and pushed myself down on to it; having it fill at last the emptiness only he could fill; pushing myself down; pushing him in as deeply as I could. Bending over and bringing my legs down alongside his as I lay on top of him, I pushed harder to bring my clit into contact with his pubis; moving straight in to a succession of intensely physical thrusts each ending with that same arousing contact.
Greg’s brain eventually caught up with his crutch in registering what was going on and after untying my bikini top he now had his mouth wrapped around a breast; his tongue flicking the engorged nipple. If I registered that we were now making love exposed in the middle of the day on the open beach for all to see it probably just enhanced my arousal.
In only about 10 maybe 15 thrusts I came for the first time, moaning loudly and shivering with intense pleasure as my body contracted repeatedly on Greg’s cock. But it wasn’t my climax I was seeking. With barely a moment’s hesitation I kept thrusting; tightening my grip around his shaft, trying to imitate from on top the sort of movements Greg usually did when seeking his own climax – all the time still stimulating my clit on his pubis. Greg’s oohs and aahs started to tell me he wasn’t far of going either encouraging me to greater effort.
As he came he thrust his hips in to me. I clamped myself to his shaft. I was sure I could feel the pulsing at the base of his shaft as his body pumped out its load in to me. In my mind I pictured his seed spraying over my cervix; flooding the top of my vagina. The ongoing stimulation from my thrusting, Greg’s throwing his hips up at me, the feeling of his pulsing shaft and my imagination combined to push me in to my second climax.
As our passions subsided, as the moment of sexual frenzy passed, Greg finally had a chance to ask –
“What brought that on?”
What I had just done had been driven by lust. Not the sort of lust driven by a desire for sexual satisfaction. It was more primitive than that. It was a mating lust; a reproductive lust. I wanted Greg’s seed inside me.
Even now I had myself pushed hard down on Greg, pushing his shaft deeply within me, my pelvic floor muscles firmly clamped around him. I wanted him to stay firm. I wanted him to plug his seed inside my vagina and dam it up against my cervix. I was on the pill, I knew I wasn’t fertile but I still loved the thought of his seed invading my body, swimming up my cervix and into my womb. Frankly I wasn’t sure what the pill did to that mechanism. It didn’t really matter. In my mind it was happening. The more of his seed I could hold in my body and the longer I could hold it there, the more would invade me
By first merely mentioning the possibility that Greg might one day be the father of my children he had offered me the chance to unburden myself of the thoughts I had so carefully kept locked up since the day we meet. They were thoughts so dangerous, so threatening to my relationship that they had stopped me being fully honest with Greg about my feelings for him. Every time we had discussed our feelings for each other, Greg had been the one to raise it; Greg had led the way in pouring out the strength of his love. I had been reduced to a “me too” level of response not because they were any less but because I was scared of driving him off with the collateral emotions he had stirred up in me.
Now by overreacting I had challenged my ability to open up to him. otele gelen escort I had done something so passionate that anything I said now would be tainted. Like on that glorious night we had gone to dinner by boat, tears started to well up. I was in danger of being reduced to heaving emotional sobs again. In the seconds I had to consider my answer I fought an internal battle between the forces that wanted finally to be able to talk honestly and those that still lived in fear.
This might be my only chance. Trying to level my voice and strip it of excess emotion; trying to pick words that were measured and unthreatening, I responded.
“You mentioned the possibility we one day might have children together. Greg I know we’re young and I know we’ve really only just got to know each other, so don’t think I wanting to rush anything. It’s just that since I’ve known you I’ve gone from being someone who thought she didn’t want children to being someone who wants a family one day. It excites me to think that one day you might be the father of those children.”
Now I’d started I thought I’d better get it out; making sure I shaped the message as safely as possible as I went along.
“We’ve both got study to finish and careers to get started first and I know we’re still in the first flush of our relationship and things can change with time, but I love you so much that I can’t help but dream one day we’ll get married and have kids. I’ve been frightened to mention those thoughts because I thought I’d scare you, so when you raised the possibility it sort of overwhelmed me.”
By now the tears were streaming down my face; a face that was raised on both elbows and fully in Greg’s vision. Lifting a hand, he gently smudged them away.
“Hey, have you forgotten I was the one who was scared of frightening you away? I think about what it would be like married to you all the time. I think about being able to live with you instead of just having to visit you. I’ve always wanted a family and I think about how fantastic any kids you produce would be. There’s nothing to be scared of. You don’t get rid of me that easily.
Look, like you I know we still have growing up to do. We also have to make sure we’re suited to each other long term. All I know is that here and now I’d love to think that one day we’ll get married. And sometimes I even think I’d like that to be sooner than I might have thought likely before I meet you. Karen, we’re on the same page on this. I’d hate to think that you felt you have to bottle it all up. Just be natural with me; talk to me. I love you. I’m overjoyed you feel so strongly towards me too. Let’s talk about these things and make all the plans in the world. If they happen that’s great. If something happens in the future and changes how we feel about each other than all I can say is we’d have great memories of thinking about how things might have been.”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Emotions that had built up over the last months burst within me. A flood of tears and heaving sobs escaped uncontrollably from me as I let them all out; sobs that never the less went all the way down to where our bodies were still joined – his still rigid shaft clamped firmly within me. By now Greg had seen this before; he knew these were sobs of joy. As I put my head back down on his shoulder he wrapped a hand around my head and rocked me gently from side to side, the other hand on my naked bottom holding me tightly to him.
As the emotion drained from me the passion that had started this whole show re-emerged. I still held both his seed and his yet unyielding shaft in my body. I wanted to savour my fantasy – to see it through – to pretend that even now our bodies were struggling to create new life. I didn’t really want to get pregnant and I knew I couldn’t; but more than ever before it struck me with blinding clarity that what we were engaged in was above all an act of procreation. I became aware of just how aroused I was. My body felt like a ripe plumb ready to burst. I wanted Greg again. He was already filling me but I wanted him to come in me again.
At least having the presence of mind to first look up and down the beach to make sure that our risk of a public display wasn’t becoming real, I rolled us over so that he was on top of me, his legs outside mine. I was emboldened like never before. I pulled his ear to my mouth and whispered –
“Make love to me. Fuck me. Give yourself the best orgasm you possibly can. Just go for it!”
Greg looked at me; a look that conveyed puzzlement, anticipation and concern all in one expression. The hand Greg originally had on the cheek of my bum moved in to the small of my back, pulling my body in to him as he started a slow powerful thrusting movement his chest brushing against my nipples. In my head, the seed he’d deposited earlier was now being agitated, pushed against my cervix, helped along its path.
His weight now was on his knees and the arm he had by my shoulder. The other arm was lifting my back, supporting me, pulling me in to him and bracing me as his thrusts continued. I felt his knees come up along-side my thighs giving him more support as he adopted a flattened kneeling position. With his free arm he had lifted himself up, the arm in the small of my back pulling me higher.
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