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I suppose when you look at the situation logically it was all the fault of the beach umbrella. I don’t see how anyone could blame me and I doubt that Katrina would admit to any fault. It all happened on the day that a bunch of us decided to go to the beach.
The forecast for the Saturday was hot and getting hotter. A slight breeze, they said, but expect to be nicely cooked by the end of the day. We’d already had a stinking hot day on the Friday with the night bringing no real relief. When someone said they were going to head to the beach in the morning there was general agreement.
We didn’t bother making up a time or arranging to go as a group. We all knew the beach that we generally congregated at and we’d just head that way in our own good time. Undoubtedly some of the gang would join up and travel as a group but others, like me, would just wander along as singletons.
I headed to the beach in the morning quite early. There was this spot along where the sand met the grassy dunes where I wanted to set up my little camp. For some reason, while the dunes and the sandy beach had a fairly straight (but ragged) line, there was one spot where it looked as though something had just taken a nice little bite out of the dunes.
Now I wanted that spot. It gave you a degree of privacy, with those grassy dunes almost circling the area, shielding you from view. When I got there my little spot was vacant and I laid claim to it.
I dumped my stuff to one side, spread my towel out and then grabbed the beach umbrella to give me some shade that I would be sure to need later.
Immediately after pulling the beach umbrella out of its case I had a few choice words to say to my sister. Too bad she wasn’t there to hear them.
My beach umbrella has alternating dark blue and red panels. The umbrella I pulled out of my umbrella case was bright pink, with a white lacy frill around it. It was a proper beach umbrella, mind you, quite as large as the one I expected to find. My choices were no umbrella, drive back home and get my umbrella, or put up my sister’s umbrella and look like an idiot.
Going home I ruled out immediately. Too far and I’d lose my spot. No umbrella, and I’d cook for sure. I’ve looked like an idiot before, so what did one more time matter? I put up that stupid pink umbrella.
After that I just loafed for a while, listening to some music and enjoying the sun. Hot, but not too hot at this stage. After half an hour or so of indolence I could hear the noise levels from the beach proper starting to rise. Assuming that various mates had arrived I got up and headed out to join in anything that was going on.
For the next couple of hours my mates and I disported ourselves along the beach and in the water. We rough-housed, we swam, we ogled the lovely ladies and in general acted like children. Or so the lovely ladies told us.
It was steadily getting hotter and I was getting thirsty so I figured I’d take a break, return to my little camp and have a cold drink.
Now I’d grabbed my little spot for the privacy it gave. Might I point out the word ‘little’? My towel, when laid out, almost filled the area. You can imagine my irritation when I got back to my spot to find that my stuff had been crowded to one side and a second umbrella and towel were spread out. The towels were so close they actually overlapped.
Normally, this sort almanbahis giriş of interference with a chap’s thing might have earned the offender an earful and a suggestion of what he could do with his stuff, but seeing said offender was lying on her towel sunbaking I didn’t have the heart to tell her to push off.
I recognised Katrina. We were acquaintances, more than friends, although we did have friends in common. Katrina was about a year younger than me, not quite twenty, I think. She was also blonde and very nicely put together. Right now she was lying flat on her tummy, bikini top undone, working on her tan.
Deciding that I’d just have to put up with my neighbour, I settled down on my own towel, opened my Esky and grabbed a cold one. I popped the top and started enjoying a nice cold beer.
When Katrina heard the can pop she turned towards me and gave me a nasty look.
“Fuck off,” she said sweetly. “I’m not interested.”
“Ah, Katrina,” I said, my voice full of sweet reasonableness, “may I point out that my things were here first? You’re the one who’s pushed your way onto my staked spot. If you don’t want my company, feel free to move.”
She sat up at that, unfortunately clutching her top to her when she did so.
She looked up at my pretty pink, lacy beach umbrella, and then back at me.
“Who are you trying to kid,” she demanded. “You’re trying to tell me that is your umbrella?”
“Not by choice,” I explained. “My sister’s to be exact. And why she put it in my umbrella case I have no idea. Today I’m stuck with it.”
Looking at Katrina’s indignant face I hazarded a guess.
“You assumed that there was a girl camped here. That’s why you snuggled down so close. Sorry. You’re stuck with me.”
“A gentleman would move elsewhere.”
“Possibly,” I returned. “Me, I’m staying right here.”
Impasse. Neither of us was going to move. I settled back to enjoy my drink, while she laid down on her back and pointedly ignored me. Well. Not totally ignored me. She acknowledged my presence by making sure her top was laid across her breasts while she tanned.
I had my drink and then lingered a while, just being naturally perverse. I was just about ready to return to the main beach area when the next random event happened. The weather forecast had mentioned the breeze and it had been blowing softly all day. Off the water, which was useful, as it kept the day from getting onerously hot.
For some reason there was a slightly stronger gust. It whipped between the dunes that sheltered us from the sight of the crowd on the beach, swept across us and was gone again. Most unfortunately, it flicked at Katrina’s top on the way past, partly dislodging it, and leaving one pert, white, pink-tipped breast on display.
For a moment we both just looked at Katrina’s nice little breast, her with shock and me with masculine interest. At least, now I was able to show that I had some gentlemanly instincts. I reached out and covered the breast again.
Was Katrina grateful? Not noticeably.
“Take your hand off me,” she whispered.
“But if I do that, you’ll be on display,” I pointed out, enjoying the feel of her breast pushing against my palm. I could feel the nipple in the centre of my palm and I couldn’t resist making a little swirling motion with my hand, feeling the nipple pucker up when I did so.
“Just almanbahis move your hand,” she hissed.
“Not like that,” she protested, when I proceeded to do so. “I meant take it off me.”
Reluctantly, I did so, and it was entirely be accident that her top got tangled in my fingers. I definitely didn’t intend to do it. Intentional or not, the result was the same. A certain young lady was now topless.
“It doesn’t look right,” I observed.
“What doesn’t look right?” came the wrathful enquiry.
“One nipple standing up and the other not,” I said.
Reaching over I started rectifying the situation.
“Will you leave my breasts alone?” she snapped, slapping at my hand.
I considered the question, then shook my head.
“No,” I said, catching her hands as they swatted at mine, and moving them out the way.
With that done, I leant over and captured a breast with my mouth. I gently suckled on it, teasing her nipple with teeth and tongue. After a few moments I changed breasts, lavishing similar treatment on the second one. Katrina was wriggling and squirming about under me, but not too strongly I noticed.
Sitting up again, I released her hands, while continuing to look her over. She was flushed and breathing hard and both her breasts were slightly swollen, nipples standing proud.
“If you’ve quite finished?” she said, giving me what I think was supposed to be a dismissing look.
I shook my head.
“Not quite,” I said.
This time I reached for her bikini bottom. I just hooked some fingers either side and started drawing them down. Katrina’s eyes went wide.
“What so you think you’re doing?” she hissed at me, but she seemed more interested in watching her bathers come off than in stopping them.
Her mons was smoothly shaven and I ran my hand lightly over it, dipping down between her legs and pressing against the soft flesh there. I stroked her, moving my hand rhythmically against her, pressing against her lips, encouraging them to open.
Things were, in my opinion, getting interesting. I rose up on my knees, untied my bathers and let them drop. They didn’t drop far, getting snagged on my joystick, as it were. A little adjustment took care of that problem and I turned my attention back to Katrina.
“You can’t,” she was saying. “You wouldn’t dare. We’re at the beach. Anyone could come past.”
“Then you’d better be quiet,” I pointed out. “Move your legs apart.”
Her gaze was flicking from my face to my erection to the narrow passage that led to the beach and then back again. It was almost laughable the way she reluctantly spread her legs. She was hot and wanted me, while at the same time she didn’t, especially not like this. Lust won over common sense, and she made room for me between her thighs.
I settled between her legs and started annoying her. I pushed her legs wider and wider. When she went to bend them I shook my head, making her spread them until she was practically doing the splits. She lay there, glaring at me, while I pressed against her, slowly taking her.
Very slowly taking her. With her legs spread wide the way they were, she couldn’t hook them around me and draw me in. All she could do was quietly protest as I edged deeper into her. I think she was ready to scream, but didn’t dare, before I finally drove completely home.
With almanbahis giriş me safely home, Katrina would have thought the fun was about to begin, but I had other plans. I withdrew.
While she quietly spluttered in protest, I brought her legs together and up, resting them on my shoulders while I again did a slow penetration. Katrina was swearing (and sweating) quietly by the time I was finally lodged.
“Now?” she asked sweetly, and tried to slap me when I shook my head.
I pulled loose again and rolled onto my back, taking her with me. Laughing up at her I indicated it was her turn to settle onto me.
She was a fast learner. She positioned herself against my cock and started pushing down onto it. And she made up for my teasingly slow penetration. She seemed to take forever to settle onto me. I found myself trying to press up into her, only to find Katrina would move up with me, not letting me enter one bit faster than she decided.
Finally she was snuggled down onto me, and a great relief it was. Katrina started rocking, letting me slide back and forth inside her. I let her go, enjoying the friction being generated between us. It seemed to me that Katrina was really concentrating, relishing the movement that she was currently controlling. I reached up and captured her breasts, teasing them in time to Katrina’s gentle rocking.
Time was passing and Katrina was picking up speed. She was fairly bouncing on me now, no longer just rocking back and forth. It seemed to me that the time was coming when I needed to take back control, preferably without losing that delicious contact.
I dropped my hands to her hips and took firm hold of her, slowing her down until she was just sitting, impaled on my cock. The look of frustration on her face plainly indicated that she wanted to continue, thank you very much.
Taking one leg I brought it across my body, forcing Katrina to rotate until she was facing away from me. Then I sat up, encouraging her to tilt forward away from me. A little bit of manoeuvring and she was on hands and knees while I was kneeling behind her, still locked in place.
Reaching around her, I again took hold of her lovely soft breasts. All set, I started my domination of our little adventure. I drove in hard, hearing Katrina gasp, and then I settled down to a hard pulsating rhythm, beating submission out of her.
Katrina was wailing quietly, her bottom frantically bobbing up and down as she hastened to meet my demands, quietly pleading with me to finish it. (I suspect that if we hadn’t been at the beach she’d have been screaming her head off, demanding loudly rather that quietly pleading.)
I fully intended to finish it, just not too soon. I drove repeatedly into her, hearing her soft mutterings changing into little mews of expectation. She was almost ready to climax and I know that I was damn well long past ready.
I started driving in harder and faster, using shorter strokes to build up speed. Katrina gave this gulping sound and then jammed her face onto the towel, muffling a scream. I could feel her shuddering as her orgasm hit her, and her passage just seemed to lock onto me, encouraging me to pump my load into her, which I was quite happy to do.
I straightened up my bathers and headed back out to the beach. Before I left I helped Katrina put her bikini bottom back on. Rather, I should say I put them onto her while she just lay there and let me. She was lying back sunbaking, top draped across her, as I left.
Like I said, it was the beach umbrella that was to blame. Katrina would never have moved in on me like that if I’d had my own umbrella up.
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