On The Beach... Sorta

I actually enjoy statistics. I like trying to come up with the right variables to mix together to form numbers that are somehow meaningful to the points in question.

That being stated, however, I can think of better things to do while lying out on a late afternoon beach.

But this was a “working” vacation for me, so I laid there on my blanket on the warm sand, making notes, punching numbers into my calculator, and trying to finish my self-assigned schoolwork for the day. My parents, who’d decided on this quickie trip to Cancun, had headed off to dinner, and I’d decided to work on the beach, rather than in our room. I was hoping to let the sinking, but still powerful, sun remove the tan lines from my back as I wrestled with derivatives and polynomial expansions.

I figured I had about 15 minutes of work left, when the sun suddenly disappeared... or at least the heat of it did... as the shadow of another human stole it away from my skin. I turned carefully on one elbow, my bikini top untied, and looked behind me, a bit agitated. As this was a private beach, and it was dinnertime, there were no kids around, and I figured most adults would not be so rude.

“Yes?” I said, trying to sound at least somewhat pleasant, staring at the woman standing there. It was difficult to tell much more about her, as she was strongly backlit by the sinking sun. But still, she looked to be older than I, dressed in a nice one-piece, with a figure more than nice, and long, wind-blown hair.

“Could you do a quick calculation for me?” she asked, her voice a sort of melodious husk.

Now this is intriguing, I thought. “Sure, fire away,” I said, turning away from her and back onto my front.

“Thanks... ok, point zero five one five six, divided by two, then times three.”

I waited for more... didn’t get it. “Is that all?” I asked.

“No. Hit equals.” I did. “Now turn it over.”

I sighed, seeing what she’d done before I’d finished spinning the calculator. It said “hELL0.0”.

“That’s cute,” I muttered, starting to turn around again. At least I tried to turn around again.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move at all. I couldn’t let go of the calculator, I couldn’t shift positions... I couldn’t even turn my head. I tried to say something, but suddenly couldn’t do that, either. What tha’ hell!

She sat down on the blanket beside me. I could hear her soft laugh, hear her snapping something... probably the lid to my bottle of suntan lotion. “My name’s Abigail,” she said. “What’s yours... you may speak now.”

“I... I’m Julie. What’s going on? I can’t move.”

“I know,” she said. “Not until I let you.”

“What are you talking about? Wha’dya mean, ‘til you let me?” I was starting to panic a bit. I could feel everything... my fingers, my toes, the blanket beneath me, the wind... but I couldn’t move anything but my lips and tongue and eyelids. I felt a towel, probably mine, being draped over my lower back, ass, and the tops of my thigh.

“Well, I’m just trying to prove something to you, something that most people aren’t aware of.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the way people talk about their mind and body is wrong. They say, ‘mind and body’, as if they’re two separate and distinct things, when in actuality they’re intrinsically linked into a oneness. As you may have gathered by now, I’ve taken rather total control of all your involuntary muscles, and thus your whole body. I could actually do the same to your cognitive thought processes, but I really don’t have to now.

“No... I have your body, and that gives me your mind, too, if I so chose.

“But nevermind about that, dear. For now, simply assume I’m here to help you. I live here full-time, you see, and can tell by your light tan that you’re just visiting, and I simply want to make sure you’re fully protected from the sun.”

I heard that little, well... farting sound that the lotion bottle makes when it’s almost empty.

“The... the sun’s almost down,” I told her, “and I have lotion on. I don’t need any more. Whatever you’re doing to me, stop... please.” I hated the plaintive sound of my voice.

“But hon, I know for a fact that you non-native girls always miss a few spots, and I feel it my civic duty to make sure your visit to Cancun is as pleasurable as possible... not painful.”

She moved against my hip, and I felt a hand sliding under the towel, moving against my skin, and sliding under the waistband of my bikini bottoms. It moved from side to side, pushing them down off my hips and onto my thighs, then pushing said thighs a bit further apart. “There... everything’s out of the way,” Abigail said.

“Now I can lather up those spots you almost certainly missed.”

“This is ridiculous,” I hissed at her, trying to be forceful without being loud, as there were still people walking up and down the beach, almost within earshot. “Stop what you’re doing right now!”

“Or what?” she asked with another laugh. I felt her seeming to switch hands under the towel. “You’ll yell out to some total stranger that I’m massaging suntan lotion into your pussy without your permission?” She began to do just that. I couldn’t even flinch away. “Don’t you think they’ll wonder why you’re not making the slightest effort to stop me?”

I moaned, half in frustration at feeling this helpless to stop her, and half at the feel of her fingers sliding and rubbing the lotion into the flesh of my sex. She worked it in good, too, using her thumb and finger to pinch and slide along each of my labia, then rubbing my entire slit with her fingers and palm.

“Please... please stop doing this, Abigail,” I whispered, my mind starting to whirl, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Why, baby? You know it feels good; you know you’re enjoying the sensations; you know that you’re hoping I’ll take a dip inside.” Once again, she acted as she spoke, working what seemed like her greased thumb into my hole, moving it in and out a bit, and swirling it around inside me.

“Ohhhh... noo... don’t... not there,” I moaned, the feeling of not being able to move, to physically react at all, even sexually, only heightening the arousal factor of what Abigail was doing. While her thumb continued to probe and massage inside me, her fingers were playing over my clitoris, scratching at my pubic bone, sending wild shivers up and down my spine.

“Liar!” It was her turn to hiss. “That’s not lotion I feel on my fingers now. You’re as wet as the ocean, already. You love this.” I could sense her leaning forward, getting closer to my head with hers. “You’re a slutty, needy little minx, aren’t you?” she continued in a throaty whisper. “The thought of being masturbated by a total stranger, by another woman, is turning you on completely. You love me using your slick little cunt, you love not being able to stop me from doing anything I want to you... don’t you, Julie?”

“Nooo...,” I gasped, the way my swelling nipples were trying to burrow their way through my top and blanket and into the sand giving lie to my denial.

“You’re going to cum. We both know you’re going to cum, Julie. All you can do now is try not to yell so loud that everyone on the beach knows you’re cumming, too. The mind and body so linked together, with the emotions wrapped up in each. I control your body, am directing your emotions, and your mind is coming along for the erotic ride now, isn’t it?”

God... I was losing it, everything Abigail was saying, true. It seemed as if she knew just where to rub, just when to push at me to turn me into a sexual puddle. Her words, my helplessness, were only making it worse... or better. She kept rubbing my sensitized clit, her thumb tormenting every hot spot inside my pussy, making me increasingly desperate to just start humping myself on her fingers.

I couldn’t, but would’ve if I could’ve. No matter what I tried, it was becoming increasingly difficult to fight the feelings Abigail was creating within both my body and, yes... my rapidly fogging mind.

“Every second you become more aroused, don’t you, Julie? You know the longer you hold out the bigger your orgasm will be, and the more noise you’ll make. But you want people to hear, don’t you? You want them to know what a hot, needy, little slut you are, how wet your pussy can get, what an incredible sexual animal you become at the touch of a woman’s hand.”

I imagined she meant the hand that was making me insane with its relentless movements... its deep, sensuous, knowing movements.

Ohh fucckk... she’s killing me... I’m gonna cummm... I knew if I could move I’d be writhing on the sand like a snake, and I’d almost bitten through my lip already in my struggles not to cry out. Apparently, Abigail was allowing my internal muscles to move now, to spasm and churn, because they were... in spades.

I heard her whisper, almost to herself this time. “You’ve lubed up my thumb so much... I wonder...?”

I felt her pull her thumb out, hating myself for moaning, “nooo...", again, so close to my relief, all of me demanding it. But when Abigail moved her hand back, probing my anus now, my “nooo!” was louder, and meant a much different thing.

“I don’t believe that, either, Julie. Let’s just see....”

She pushed and prodded with her wet thumb, worked it through my body’s natural resistance, and popped it into my ass up to her first knuckle.

“Aarrhhh!” I yelled, unable to even lower my head, to bury my face in the blanket, luckily not spotting anyone nearby now, though my eyes could barely focus on anything, anymore. Then there was a finger in my pussy again, and probably two against my clit, and I felt like a bowling ball that her hand was working and working, and that was masturbating me, and fucking meeee....

I knew it wouldn’t stop, and I knew I couldn’t stop it. I think she probably knew what it would do when she leaned even closer and whispered....

“Keep resisting if you want, Julie, but know I can torment you like this for another hour, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Something snapped inside my head, someone punched me in the belly, and my loins triggered, and triggered hard.

As I started to cum, I started to scream. Thankfully, Abigail covered my mouth with her free hand, her index finger tight to my nose, practically smothering me. It felt as if everything inside me below the waist had come loose, clenching and shuddering, twisting in and out of knots as I came. I yelled and squealed into her hand over and over as my orgasm accelerated, as my mind flew off into space somewhere... Space Shuttle Julie heading into orbit.

I was surprised that the sun was still up when I finally came back down, as the feelings had seemed to go on forever.

Abigail had turned me over on my back, drying her cum-coated hand on my breasts, taking her time, massaging them and toying with my nipples. I still couldn’t move, but I could moan in helpless pleasure... and I did.

She smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, baby, no one’s around right now. You really are a nasty (pinching one nipple), filthy (pinching the other), slutty (back to the first), wonderful (second), sexual thing (double tit squeeze)... aren’t you?”

I moaned a “yess”, as I could see no use in denying the obvious, now.

“I lied about the hour, as I have to get going here, Julie. You’ll be able to move in about a minute, though.” Abigail sighed and rolled me onto my belly, my slick tits molding themselves back into my loosened bikini top. She moved up and took my head in her hands, then lifted and moved it so it rested on the point of my chin. I watched as she picked up my calculator and hit three keys, then put it back down.

“That’s my cabana number, honey, about three blocks west of this hotel. If you’re free any time before you go, just stop on by.” Then she leaned down to whisper in my ear one last time.

“What I just did to you, what I just made you feel, is nothing compared to what I could do, and would do, given enough time and a little bit of privacy.” Abigail kissed me on the cheek, then stood.

“Think about it, sweetness. Byeee....”

I watched her saunter off into the growing sunset, her rather wonderfully shaped ass swaying back and forth as she did. Just as I started feeling my ability to move come back to me, she rounded a small dune, and was gone.

I struggled to reach down and pull up my bikini bottoms, groaning at how wet my thighs were, how damp the blanket was below my oozing pussy. My thoughts and feelings were a jumbled mess of confusion, arousal, and stunned disbelief. Sighing, I finally managed to sit up, tying my top back over my sticky breasts. As I did that, I glanced down at what she’d keyed.

“261”...

I memorized it, as it seemed a rather meaningful number. As I said, I like meaningful numbers, and didn’t want to forget this one.

Just in case, you know?