Bitch and Dicking: Bitchy Fun at the Beach - Sex Stories

Bitch and Dicking: Bitchy Fun at the Beach

... myself on what it is exactly that he wants to make known and incontrovertible to me. Maybe he is going to ask me to have sex with him right here on this beach. Maybe he is going to tug and tow my panties downwards so that he can finger and lick and swat my worried anus behind there. I cannot tell which is which here, but whatever it is that his plans and motives are, it does not feel or even smell all that satisfyingly good and worthwhile to me. No, it doesn't in any way suspectible! "Tell me, my one and only Dicking: What is it precisely that you want to shoot the breeze unto me as regards and concerns whatever topic it is that you feel like wanting to discuss and address here privately." Even as I say this myself, I am inwardly apprehensive and restless and worried anxiously too on the other hand. Maybe it is something good, maybe it is something awfully bad, maybe it is something that I can manage and handle fine on my own, perhaps it is something that I cannot bear and withstand. To be honest and downright frank with you, I don't know and even understand which is exactly which here. Maybe I am just being paranoid and indifferent. I just don't truthfully know. "You see, Bitch, I want you to strip awfully naked as I will be singing and playing the guitar for you. You will be doing it just for our sole fun and unreserved happiness. Also I need you to do it like you are some professional pole dancer, or let's put it as simply being a night club dancer. All those sexy and ...

... breathtaking moves--I want and expect you to act them out for me. So are you in this fun-time deal of ours, or not, sweetie Bitch?" I look and glance direct at him through my dark-some glasses. His facial expression and countenance is so stern and grave. Which I do take here for a sign that he is dead serious and straight-faced in addition. Obviously! There is no any mistaking or misgiving about it. In a bold and daring voice, I respond back to him, "It is a deal done, Mr. Dicking. I am in for it." And I am serious and dead-faced about this, mind you. I think that Jace is right. We must do some bit tad of sexual-touching thing and act here, whether it involves and accommodates heavy and strong actual sexual performance, or whether it doesn't. I start to prepare and ready myself up. Today will be today. I am going to strip totally naked while jigging and juddering and jiving up to Jace's piece of music. I watch him as he gets and lays hold of his guitar, and before he even starts to strike and strum up some piece of musical notes, I do it first by strumming and hitting my fingers across the middle of my legs--where my sweet precious vagina is--and I stop suddenly and abruptly to let him, Jace Dicking, do up the actual thing and concert-like stuff himself. His voice is so sweet and mildly gentle. I love and adore it. The way that it rings and echoes and peals sweetly and melodiously into my ears, it shatters my inner sadness and fills me wholly with inexpressible joy and gladness. ...