Unknown - Surfer Girl

Janet squatted over the supine body. She had never eaten pussy before. The taste was not bad. She knew, as only a woman can know, how exquisite the joy was when a wet tongue pressed into her twat. It was too much. She purposely dawdled in the drooling slit, knowing how close Bridget was to coming. Carefully Janet worked her fuck box. Back and forth went her tongue. Bridget groaned on the floor. She squirmed her body like a worm under the tongue stabbing. She was spastic with joy! Her orgasm, was coming closer and closer and closer until.

Janet pulled away, not a moment too soon. One more lick and Bridget would have come. As it was, the blonde-haired nympho was right on the edge. Her orgasm was a cork bobbing on turbulent waters. She screamed for satisfaction. Every cell in her demanded satisfaction.

"Ohhhhhh… God! Oh, please, do something!" Bridget groaned. She rolled her hips. Her velvet patch glistened with pussy juice. Bridget had to come. She would do anything to set the spark off.

And Janet knew it. And so did Biff who watched, barely in command of his senses. He was insatiably hot. His cock was stuck out to here, which he thought was impossible after all the sucking and licking and fucking. But it was. And things were going to get better.

Because his daughter squatted down above Bridget's face and said sternly: "Fuck me first. Fuck my asshole with your finger!"

Bridget scrunched her eyes closed and reached between Janet's thighs, touching the pink hole of her ass with an index finger. Her shitter was moist! It surprised her so that her chest nearly collapsed.

It was so goddamn amazing that Bridget didn't know what to do.

"Ream me!" Janet said heavily. The finger pinched, sliding up her butt, but it felt good inside her channel. Very goooood! She spread her legs wider and wider, her cunt slipping close to Bridget's mouth.

Janet was also very close to Bridget's cunt. It took great strength to hold herself in the air, especially since Bridget was reaming her asshole clean with her finger.

Janet gasped for breath. The girl's cunt glistened like a jewel. Closer and still closer her mouth sank to the girl's cunt. Her tongue was only inches from Bridget.

It was frantic time. Janet couldn't hold her own orgasm. it welled like hot lead in her breech. Quickly, she dropped between the girl's hips and jammed her tongue in one more time.

"Aaaaaiiiieee!!" Bridget gasped.

Over the edge she went, spilling into one spasmodic orgasm after another. Janet was so happy that her anus tightened around Bridget's finger.

She had only a second, maybe less. She could not hold back.

Biff was screaming from the sidelines. And a crowd had formed to cheer on the two girls.

"Come!" Bridget shouted. "Come… oh yes, come!"

"I will!" Janet responded. Suddenly her asshole hurt unbearably. "I can and I will!"

She hunched her swelled cunt closer to Bridget's face and suddenly exploded.

Janet started to pee all over Bridget's face.

"Yaaaaaaa!" Bridget screamed in surprise. The pee splattered on her lips. Her whole body shook with jolts of tension. She was shocked beyond belief as the boiling pee splashed from the crotch above her.

"Open your mouth," ordered Janet.

Her bladder drained onto Bridget's face. Janet's asshole was burning hot-almost as hot as the stream of urine that washed down Bridget's body.

Biff was laughing so hard he nearly peed in his own trousers. Oh, his daughter was a real go getter. He had never seen such raw sex! Fingers in assholes, tongue jammed in cunts, and now pee washing over all of it! Oh, man, his daughter was a fucking jewel! He would never let her marry anyone. They would be together for a long, long time.

To Janet it was super exciting. The feel of the finger in her butt while urine flowed from her urethra was unbelievable. The strain of squatting down over Bridget's face disappeared. She felt so full and happy. Her bladder drained like a broken faucet. Bridget's cunt continued to spasm with one orgasm after another.

It was wild sex. Oh, it was the best sex a little girl could ever want.

It was right-on righteous!

Biff had the car, but he took a detour with his daughter. The fog rolled in over the beach, covering everything with equality. The gaudy apartments blended with the dwindling number of clapboard homes. Way off in the distance rang the bell in the lighthouse.

Lighthouses were obsolete in this day and age of radar and sonar tracking equipment. But the Ocean Beach lighthouse was still out there on the outcropping of rock sounding the alarm. It was a pleasant sound.

It reminded Biff of the grizzled old man walking around. He swung around and walked the few quick blocks back to that house. He was surprised to find the light was still on. Even through the fog, he could see the white-haired man sitting in the padded rocking chair, drinking a can of beer. Looking closer, Biff noticed the walls were lined with books and peering closer he saw, or thought he saw (the fog was getting very thick) old, leather bound volumes made in a bygone era. He sighed to himself. Biff had a house twice as beautiful and worth three times the money that this one bedroom shanty was. And yet he felt in his gut that the man living inside was infinitely richer, his life many times more fulfilling.

"What are we doing?" Janet asked. The fog was making her cold and she wanted to get back to the warmth and safety of the house.

"It will just be a minute," Biff answered.

They crossed the street and when they stood in front of the door, Biff stopped. He didn't know this man. It was awkward for him to open the door and say hello to someone he didn't know. But he felt compelled to do so. An invisible force seemed to be pushing him.

Squaring his shoulders, Biff walked the cement stairs to the house and knocked.

It was several long seconds before the grizzled man opened the door.

"Howdy," he replied. His face was square and masculine. He had straight, even teeth, a battered nose and a clipped white beard that made him look like Jack Hemingway.

"I live up on the hill," began Biff. "We were passing by, my daughter and I and we happened to see your bookshelf and… "

He was cut off by the man's guffaw. "Well, don't feel alone. All the guys up on the hill come by sooner or later." He extended a firm hand. "The name's Derk Jones Been living here ever since the government took my schooner away from me." He waved them into the small one-bedroom shack with the large expanse of picture window and the row-after-row stacks of wonderful books.

"I'm getting famous in these parts," said Derk, fetching two beers for his friends. "I'm known by many names. The captain, the wanderer, the crazy old bird down on the beach. Lots of names." He laughed hard, showing all his teeth. There was none of the mean-spirited, hustling anxiety to his laugh. It was full throated and honest, a man who knew about life and the sea and had faced death many times.

"What happened to your boat?" Janet asked.

"Schooner," corrected Derk. "Don't mix the two up." He twisted in his chair crossing his legs.

"Lost it to the bank," he said sipping the beer. "Put every nickel I had into it, then had a run of bad weather and ripped out my mainsail and I couldn't charter out. My credit was gone and the bank came to collect what they could."

"Jesus," said Biff. Since his boyhood, he had been fascinated by the sea and the men who lived their lives on the great sailing ships. "That must have gutted you."

Derk laughed again. "Not at all. I had a blast. A hell of a good time. That's why everybody on the hill-the rich folks, if you don't mind me saying so-know me. I took cruises everywhere. One time or another everyone in Point Loma was on my schooner. Tahiti, Java, Samoa… everywhere. Hell of a good time. Wouldn't do a thing different if I had to. Hell of a good time." He drank from his bottle and the woman with the heavy belly and sagging tits came to fetch a fresh one for Derk.