Written by ForestPerson
30 Jan 2006
On the beach
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I am not a large man. Why mince words - I am exceptionally small. If I had black skin and a bone through my nose I would be taken for a pygmy. However, although my height places me in the twilight zone between a midget and a shortarse, my 'middle leg' is of a length and breadth well above the average.
I now live in the southern hemisphere, occasionally dreaming of former excursions to those grim dogging sites in the Greater Birmingham area. A person with my short right and left legs only needs to walk for five minutes before reaching the warm, deserted beaches of the Indian Ocean.
Last night the beach was deserted but the water was not. In the silvery, twinkling mixture of moonlight and starlight I saw a couple embracing in the gently rippling sea. As the slight swell rose and fell I could see they were, so to speak, joined at the hip. I sat on the sand and waited.
They emerged from the sea in their birthday suits. They were in the best of moods after their vertical nightswimming. They were unwilling to leave.
'Little man', said he, 'would you like to lose your loneliness?'
Before I could think of a reply, she threw herself at my side and clawed at my trousers, swifty withdrawing them - and the undergarments beneath - from my diminutive legs.
'This man is not little everywhere', said she to he. So saying, she clamped her salty lips on what fanciful writers might call my 'stiff veined rod'. She sucked and slobbered for a while, exciting my dangly bit to its full girth and extension.
'Let him in', said he, holding his own appendage - almost as hard and long as mine - in his hand. She released me from her lips and slithered her salty, sandy body over mine until our middle regions met. Her 'English Channel' (I had recognised the accent) was moist and welcoming. With my nose stabbing at her breasts as she arched her much longer body over me, the part that matters most slithered into her damp grotto.
'Let me in too', he said, inching his many inches slowly into that less savoury orifice sometimes known as Cadbury Alley. What a huffing and puffing followed. Our two fat sausages invaded and withdrew, invaded and withdrew.
We gurgled and groaned. She squealed and bucked. The moment of truth in which bodily fluids are likely to be exchanged in hot, sticky, voluminous quantities approached.
'Save some for me', grunted he. I let my first squirt moisten her vaginal walls and penetrate her cervix before gritting my teeth and holding back...
...we fell apart as rapidly as we had engaged. My next spurt could be restrained no longer. It shot out just as he took my trouser snake in his mouth for what was a new experience for me if not for him. He sucked and swallowed while she edged upwards and let my first squirt dribble into my own gasping mouth. Before I realised what had happened, I swallowed my own white sauce. The flavour was not unpleasant.
He had exercised self-control. She sent him back to the sea to wash her bum juices from his central stump. He returned as erect as when he'd left, despite the coolness of the water.
'Help me please him', said she, kissing me and then letting him slip his procreative organ first between her lips, then between mine and so on until he screeched and quivered, shooting a sticky stream into my mouth, then another, then another.
'Don't swallow it all', she pleaded, 'kiss me, feed me.' I found her mouth with mine and transferred the bodily fluids to her. She drank them greedily.
We soon recovered and engaged in other ways while the patient waves lapped quietly close to our feet. Before we finished, every orifice (excluding nostrils and earholes, of course) of all three of us was smeared with male and female cum. We lay back in the sand, remembering, and tasting the flavours still present in the back of our throats. Our orifices tingled and throbbed.
I can say no more. Sometimes I wonder if it was all a dream. Every night, when the moon shines and the water is calm, I walk the beach in hope. But I am always alone.