Naked & Wet in the Swirling Ocean

So it was, in the course of human events, that Dan's goal of licking the rainwater from the front of her thighs was accomplished. As he pursued this mission, Dan had noted with approval that Amy was wearing a deep red thong. It was a mere wisp of tulle, but it served to further inflame his passion. He took a deep breath and pondered whether to place kisses along the front edges of her thong, whether to allow slow, deliberate kisses over its delicate fabric.

Now a rookie lifeguard might have sought permission to remove the thong and ascertain whether the smoothness of Amy's skin extended further. But Dan was not precipitous. He had every intention of enjoying a slow, slow journey to ecstasy. Thus, his methodical procedure of licking the rainwater off Amy's thighs continued. Dan finished the front of her thighs and began to turn toward the backs of them.

Gently turning her, Dan began licking the raindrops from the backs of Amy's thighs. As he looked up, he could see, in the reflections from the window, that her eyes closed as his licks fell upon her thighs. Given the design of the thong, her hips were exposed. Dan noticed that they were tan and firm, dappled with rainwater, framed by the back of the deep red thong. Dan slowly began licking the droplets of water from her firm, tan hips.

As Amy stood, leaning against the wall, the tiny licks on her thighs and hips were each little moments of delight. She realized that she had been gasping audibly. She was overwhelmed by the naughtiness of it all, their presence in the lifeguard station, and those tiny, taunting licks which were destroyed her composure and threatening to send her tumbling into sensual abandon.

Then, too, there was something even more sensual about his leaden pace. It was almost as if he knew that he was teasing her slowly, slowly toward strong orgasms. Her boyfriends had been hasty, greedy for her pleasure and theirs, but Dan seemed to have no sense of urgency. As she gasped as each new moment of pleasure took her, Amy began to wonder if he didn't intend to tease her to one orgasm and then simply proceed to more.

It seemed such a lush, forbidden agenda. But they were young, and the night was too, in the blue, almost Hawaiian downpour. Amy was so engrossed in the slow-paced pleasure Dan was inflicting that she held her breath when it stopped. She kept her eyes closed, sure that more delicious sensations were to follow, and she was not disappointed when Dan's fingers slipped underneath the straps of her thong. She waited for him to ease them down to the floor. But she had misinterpreted the gesture, and he merely stroked the skin underneath as he turned her back toward him, teasing her lightly till every nerve seemed heightened to the point of unendurable sensitivity. She twined her fingers through his hair and moved a centimeter closer to him, but he held her slightly away, blowing gently on her. Amy was unable to keep from writhing and letting the tiniest of sounds escape her lips. One touch, just the faintest graze of his lips or his fingers, she knew, would send her toppling over the edge into glorious orgasm, and she was more than ready. In fact, Amy was dying to fling herself headlong into a prolonged night of sybaritic hedonism.

For Dan, as his kisses again fell upon the front of Amy's thighs, it was a test of his control. He had been more than ready for his first orgasm of the day ever since his first glimpse of Amy. And he suspected that Amy might well be prepared for her first orgasm of the evening as well.

In addition to his initial lust, Dan also wanted to satisfy his interest in Amy's tonsorial status. Was she so completely smooth that his tongue would glide over her shaven lips as she quivered into orgasm? If, as a purely theoretical query, he happened to be kissing her clitoris, would he see a tiny triangle poised an inch and a half above? As thoroughly as Stephen Hawking weighed the deep questions of physics, so Dan analyzed these matters.

Undecided for the moment, Dan decided to pass the time by kissing along the front edges of her deep red thong. He heard her gasp as his tongue began its journey, a trip shorter than that of Marco Polo but far more rewarding. His tongue traced first the fabric, and then the sensitive skin next to the fabric edge. It seemed that Amy's hips had begun to move, almost involuntarily, as the journey continued. It was almost as if she was seeking that tiny extra bit of contact that would permit her an intial orgasm.

From Amy's vantage point, she couldn't quite decide if Dan's lingering pace reflected ardor or apathy, but she leaned toward the former. The visual stimulation of looking down at his tousled head and watching his methodical kissing drove her to the brink of self-control. While she was eager for Dan to feel the same arousal, she wasn't sure she could restrain herself if he continued to tease her with his tongue. Then she was quite sure she could not, as he shifted his attention from the edges of the thong to the center. The moment his lips touched her clitoris, thrills shuddered through her, and she yielded to complete and unconstrained licentiousness, at least for the moment. In fact, the entire rest of the night beckoned. Glancing around the lifeguard shack, Amy eyed the salvage ropes, the one-person-sit-on-top inflatable kayak, the rescue board, and thought of some of the more exotic suggestions from her own pocket Kama Sutra. Though it seemed even a trifle redundant, she could hardly wait to indulge in some prolonged French kissing and a slow, thorough exploration of voluptuous pleasures. As the sound of the surf crashed through the windows, Dan began at last to untie her thong.