Jo came out of the bathroom wearing her nightgown. It was flannel-nights could be chilly at the seashore-and it was pleasantly frumpy. All she needed were curlers in her hair.
The bedroom window was open, and a salty mist of night air came fluttering in. With it came the sound of music. Jo felt the slight chill and she went to close the window, but before she did, she happened to look out.
Her brother, Jim, and his wife Lisa, were camped on the beach. They'd built a small fire and Jim sprawled on a blanket, sipping from a can of beer. Lisa stood by him, the fire behind her, a transistor radio twirling from its thong in one hand. She was naked, stark naked, and she was dancing like a bacchanal to the heavy metallic music she held on a string.
Jo sank to her knees, still staring wide-eyed through the window. Dear God, she thought, oh, dear God! She's even more beautiful in the moonlight than I'd dreamed she could ever be!
Lisa was as tawny as a lioness in the firelight, her body shining as if it had been waxed. Her breasts shook as she danced, and they looked even larger naked than they had straining in the too-tight tee shirt she usually wore. They moved now with a freedom and bounce that Jo found hypnotic.
Lisa turned in profile and her nipples were taut and stiff, thrust out in eye-catching erection. With her free hand she caressed herself while she danced, felt her tits, played with her nipples. She leaned her head back with a sigh of contentment. Her body twisted again, gyrating with the music, and she was poetry in motion. It was a kind of art that could never be captured, not even by anyone as talented as Jo felt she was as an artist. Jo could only stare and lust, and envy.
Lisa was short, yes, and built, but there was no fat on Lisa's frame. Her tummy was small and softly round, hollowing down into an inviting crotch set between firm, taut-muscled legs. Dancer's legs. Her ass was smooth, swinging in wide exciting curves, and her own curves were nothing to sneeze at, either. She stuck out behind nearly as provocatively as she did from the front, a nicely symmetrical effect, and she kept turning round and round with the music, turning until Jo had seep. Her bare gleaming body from every possible angle. But Jo wanted to see it again, and again, and again. She didn't want to stop looking. She couldn't stop looking.
Still on her knees, Jo reached down with a trembling, nervous hand. She lifted the hem of her gown, reached inside. For a moment she caressed herself with shaking, quivery fingers, stroking her twat through the nylon of her panties, until juices oozed into the slit and soaked the fabric and her hips began to shake a little. She realized that she too was moving with that music from down on the beach. Infectious music. And an infectious sight.
Jo pushed harder at her slit until finger and panties alike slipped into her tender, love-starved crease. She moaned through clenched teeth at the sudden pressure on her clit, and she was astonished to find her nubbin as erect as it was, so stiff and so lust-raw she could hardly bear to touch it. But somehow she couldn't make herself stop touching it, just as she couldn't look away from the sight unfolding before her eyes down on the beach. Erotic jolts of pain burst through her cunt region as she masturbated and her eyes were glued upon Lisa, dancing. Desirable Lisa. She watched, and she desired.
Lisa began to chant along with the music, humming and trilling in a soft, slightly off key voice, like a little girl just learning to sing and not entirely sure of her pitch. Chills ran up and down Jo's spine and she pressed her chin against the window sill, watching.
Lisa wasn't much of a singer, but her voice was haunting and evocative all the same. And there was damned little she had to learn about dancing. At least, about erotic dancing. She was almost perfect, Jo thought.
Her body moved with a sexual, feline intensity, arms lifting high above her head, tits shaking, ass swinging from side to side. She swooped low, down to the sand, legs spread in a split that a ballerina would have been proud of. She humped against the sand for a moment, her hair loose and free, shaking around her face and down her tits, and she husked like a woman in throes of sexual passion. When she stood up, sand coated her crotch.
She was bare between the legs, bare as a baby, her slit vivid and well-defined, a long neat crack running through her plump swell of crotch. Jo's mouth began to water as she watched that crack, saw it tantalizingly revealed by the motion of Lisa's legs. And then the girl, giggling, lifted one foot impossibly high into the air, toes pointing upward as if they meant to stir among the stars. Jim reached up from his blanket and for a long moment, a despairing moment to Jo, he clutched Lisa's plump pussy, flexed his hand on it, squeezed until Lisa moaned, "Ah, Goddddd… " and danced away.
She stopped a moment, catching her breath while the song on the radio crashed through its final chords. "Mmmmmmmm," she purred, rocking on her feet through a commercial or two, and it was plain that she was anxious for more music. The next song started, softer, disco-shit, and she began to move with it.
She did bumps and grinds, soft, sexy, sinuous, disco-style bumps and grinds. She did the hustle and the bump and a little of the hootchie-kooch too, and she was great at everyone of them. She could move her body in ways Jo had never thought existed, and each motion showed her off in anew, exciting way, ways that cut through Jo like a knife. Her knees trembled where she knelt by her window, and her hand was a crazed, passion-maddened thing operating on her mushy cunt.
"Oh, yes, now," Jo whimpered at the very bottom of her throat. Her fingers pushed impatiently at the panties, got inside, onto the pussy itself, the pussy whose abundant dripping had already soaked her fingers and the ice-blue panties. Her lips were frothy with juice when she touched them bare, and she moved her fingers along the wet crease until her finger was sticky and moist and the aroma of hot, excited pussy filled her nostrils where she knell. She moaned, gasped, started working her fingers into herself, fucking her pussy with passionate groans that were torn from her heart, from her very soul.
Lisa was singing with the song too, if you could call it singing. At the very least you could call it sexy. If I had my guitar, Jo thought, we could do duets. Even her sour notes sound good. One song drifted into another while Jo masturbated and stared, and almost before she had time to appreciate the change, Lisa was down there, flatting only an occasional note.
She went down onto her knees on the sand, dropping the radio onto the beach. She stretched her hand toward Jim and he reared up, his dark hair gleaming in the firelight.
Jo stroked herself furiously as the tableau kept shifting before her wondering eyes. With her free hand she managed to unlace the top of her gown. She thrust her hand inside, eager to pinch and maul her tits. The nipples of her firm hard boobs were rigid and upright, and she seized them avidly, squeezing till her breath shortened and her whole body shook and.ached with raging arousal. Drool oozed from one corner of her mouth. She couldn't control the flow of her saliva. She tried to swallow the excess; maybe that would help her tight, dry throat. But she had to stop, just short.of choking on excess spit. Her finger kept socking in and out of her foaming pussy and she was feeling those strokes, all the stabbing way in, all the shuddery way out. Her muscles clenched and sucked, and her snatch was full of wetness. She hadn't been this hot in months.
Damn it all anyway! she thought. She ought to go to bed, stop this degrading voyeuristic game she was playing with herself. But she couldn't. Her eyes were glued to Lisa's naked body down there on the beach, and she tried to make her mind filter out the disturbing presence of Jim. God, she wanted him, too!
The song went on, gospel-like piano chords emanating from the radio on the sand. Jo's heart raced inside her bosom and her fingers raced inside her pussy. It was a toss-up which would win, heart or fingers. She was stroking herself hard now, masturbating furiously, her eyes following Lisa as she knelt on the beach, offering herself shamelessly to her husband.
Jim was kneeling too, and their bodies rocked together. She was dry-humping against him, doing it like a slut. She was a slut. Of course she was!
Lisa pulled back a little and, profiled in front of the fire, Jim was obviously hard in his pants. Jo dug into her twat with three fiery fingers, pounding them like hammers on the anvil of her lust. She jerked them free, drove them home again, drove up her snatch until her throat tightened and her body seemed on the verge of becoming jell-o. That was how Lisa deserved to be loved. In the intense way that Jo felt only she could make love to her!
Jim was stripping himself, with help from Lisa. She pulled the shirt over his head and shoulders, and then he reached down to undo his pants. She fell onto her belly on the sand before him, jerking at his jeans. His cock bounced out and smacked her in the face. The fire's glow made his cock look red as the biggest stallion's, and hung as such, too.
Jo's heart jumped at the sight. God, it was so big and beautiful. All cocks were beautiful, but this one was more so than others because it belonged to her beautiful big brother.
Lisa said, "Ooooohhhh, honey, it looks good enough to eat!" She said it in that dreamy little voice of hers, a child's voice in a woman's body. Jo closed her eyes a moment and imagined it was she who had just said that to Jim.
"Then eat it," Jim said, and Jo felt as if he were talking to her. God! She had to watch this. Now Jim was thrusting his cock into Lisa's hungry mouth.
Grabbing him by the legs, Lisa began to eat him up and down, gobbling, swallowing, making loud, vulgar, slurpy sounds. It made Jo more horny. Until now she could handle the situation fairly well, but this erotic display was arousing her to unbelievable heights.
She watched Lisa making her mouth a receptacle for Jim's throbbing' prick, a woman obviously relishing it, reveling in it.
Jo wanted to be doing the same and her fingers were reaming madly in and out of her pussy. The sprawl of Lisa's busty, ripe.frame on the sand, the curve of legs and hips, the thrust of tits, the sight of Jim's big cock-they were too much, God, too much! Jo was excited and she was ashamed of herself for what she was doing, but she couldn't make her fingers go limp in her steamy jungle of a twat, and she couldn't force her pussy to stop snapping like a piranha at those fingers.
Her nipples were stiff, agony swelling and coursing in them each time her hand brushed the rubbery little tips. She knew that a warm, wet mouth could make those nipples feel good-better than good-but she didn't have a warm, wet mouth to suck on her, only her fumbling, aroused hand clawing over her lust-hardened boobs, pinching viciously at her' swollen, aching nipples.
"You gonna fuck me?" Lisa asked wiping drool from her mouth as she sat up. She had a smug grin on her face. Forty feet away, Jo could see that grin. Jim's cock jutted up with a slight curve in its length giving it the appearance of a thick scimitar someone had tried, not successfully, to straighten out. Jo was good at estimations. Space and proportion were part of her calling as an artist. And she knew that Jim was a well-hung man, that his cock was big and fat and long and thick, bigger than the average, bigger than any other prick she had ever seen. The knowledge fired her loins. Was Lisa like her? Did she think of nothing but length, thickness, stiffness? Did her every waking dream center around a stiff prick? Is she really like me? Jo wondered.
"It seems kinda kinky," Lisa observed, lying back on the sand, her knees up. "I mean here we are, getting ready to fuck on the beach. Shit! I bet there are people watching us!"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby?" Jim teased, coming into the spread of Lisa's legs. He put his hands on her knees, worked them. "You would, wouldn't you? You'd like to have an audience. "
"Yeah, I suppose so. It's kinda exciting, thinking about it, I mean."
"Well, my sexy lady, you go on and fantasize. I'm going to give you a good fucking right now!"
Lisa hummed something and her legs spread widely, and Jim came down upon her. There was a moment of fumbling and then the girl wailed out a cry of delight. Her legs shot up into the air, toes wiggling, and she moaned. "Oh, do it, Jim, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me… "
Jo's eyes were full of tears now, thankfully misting the delightful sight she was watching, and there was a roaring in her ears, louder than the inrush of the surf further down the beach. "I could be joining in with you two," she whispered, still pawing her tits and frigging her hot box of a pussy. "I could be getting fucked, could be getting sucked, oh… Please Lisa, make noises, any noises, moan, cry out, fold your legs around him. Tell him to keep fucking you. Scream. Scream out for me to join in! Oh, God, I'll come, come and come… "
She wasn't far from coming now. She could sense it in every fiber of her being. Her fingers trembled inside her pussy, quivered tensely, and the lips of her slot, the walls of her tube-they were doing all the work, rippling, contracting like the speeded-up tempo of her breathing. Her clitoris throbbed and her tits were sore, aching lumps of abused flesh. She stared out the window, sobbing with frustration as she watched Lisa writhe under Jim, and she could feel the shame as each stroke of that fat thick cock pounded into the girl. She wanted it to be pounding into her own hot pussy, God how Jo wanted it!
Lisa screamed wildly, rolling under Jim as if she were going into epileptic seizure. Her legs wreathed around him, and she said, "Oh fuck me, Jim, really fuck me, fuck it to me, fuck me, fuck me… "
"Fuck it to you and a dozen more, the way I feel tonight." Jim panted, working hard above her. His bare buttocks shone in the firelight, and they looked hard and firm, like slabs of meat. Oh, she wanted him, wanted him so. Why couldn't he be on top of her instead of atop Lisa and his big cock pummeling its way in and out of her sweet, sweet cunt? His body topped Lisa's beautiful frame and he used her the way an animal uses the nearest available female of its species, Jo supposed. She didn't know whether or not he really loved Lisa. Maybe he just loved to fuck and any woman would do. Maybe he was like that. Maybe, hell, maybe even, if he got hot enough sometimes, he might even want to fuck his own sister! Jo shivered violently at the thought.
"Do it, baby, do it to me!" Lisa squealed, rocking and writhing under him on the sand. She attacked him with hands and legs, but she wasn't fighting him off. She was enticing him to fuck her harder, to ravish her and brutalize her and fuck her. Jo felt her heart almost bursting she was so excited. Oh God, how she needed taking care of, the way she'd always longed to be taken care of. She staggered toward the bed, fingers still buried in her rippling snatch. Somehow she managed to throw herself down, collapsing onto the mattress with sighs and tears of frustration.
She rolled over, and she could see the flames through her window and she could still hear the moans and giggles of Lisa as the hot little blonde was fucked and refucked. Shit! It should be me, Jo moaned. She wanted to scream. I love sex! God, how I love it! I need to be fucked! Oh Jim, Lisa… help me! Help me!
Her fingers thrust in and out furiously. She had her knees up, her panties down to her knees, and her nightgown rolled up past her quivering tits. Her cunt seemed to buck up to meet the plunges of her fingers, and she fucked herself with maddened 'determination. I don't need anyone, she lied to herself, and least of all that hot Lisa or that well-hung brother of mine. I'll never need anyone. I have my finger. As long as I have myself, I still have more than most other people will ever call their own. I have me. Oh, baby, I have meeeeee!
Her orgasms came thundering down upon her, one followed by another and still another. She rocked on the bed, not caring how much noise she made. The two on the beach were doped into their own activities. Yet through it all, through the whole sweet surrender to her own passions and lusts, she could hear plain as anything the sound of Lisa's radio, and, even clearer, the girl's sexual moans and cries, floating in with the breeze from the sea, through her open window.
And then, when it was over, she could still hear the sounds from outside. Weren't they ever going to stop! She wanted to close the window, shut out the noises, but she knew she couldn't walk over and do it, that she'd have to look, and that if she looked… Jo crawled under her covers, sobbing like a baby, and she covered her head with the pillow. And still those sounds hammered upon her eardrums, penetrating the pillow's shield the way Jim's cock must be penetrating Lisa's cunt. She rocked and tossed until a fitful, dream-haunted sleep stole upon her. It seemed to take hours, but her body finally fell, leaden, into the sea of slumber.
She spent a lousy night, the rottenest of her life. Her dreams were almost nightmares, sexual nightmares. She was with Jim on the beach. They were fucking gloriously, the way she'd watched him and his wife on the beach. Except he was mounting Jo, from the rear, too, really giving her the dick, and he leaned close to kiss her on the side of the face. It was his cock ramming in and out of her, sending messages of delight from her pussy to her brain, and even as she understood she felt herself beginning to come, to come like a bandit, her body shaking and writhing under him, and he could feel it too because he stepped up his fucking and speared her with his tool and she couldn't stop, she could only lie there and weep and buck and climax, again and again.
She awoke from that dream with a cry of panic, but she was alone in her bed and the house was as silent as a grave. It was early, she knew, because there was only a chilly looking gray light outside. Jo closed her eyes, sank onto the bed again, and sleep came stealing back. Her dreams were no more pleasant, but at least she didn't awake until the alarm rang.