Parting Shot

Marcy kept pushing until Paul was kneeling at her feet. Then she dug her fingers in to his hair and pulled his face into the shapely recess of her sex, until his nose was buried in her thick, brown bush. Needing no further guidance, Paul immediately began lapping at her pussy. He was over-eager at first, racing his tongue all across her outer labia in a chaotic frenzy. Marcy giggled at how his manic efforts tickled. Then she began to purr.

Paul calmed down. His shock and awe assault on Marcy's pussy turned into an exploratory mission of plowing through her slit to feel how her folds parted and eventually, investigating the many ways he could deflect her clit.

Marcy touched her tits without thinking and immediately felt self-conscious. She opened her eyes and saw Brad staring at her, just as she expected.

His legs were splayed wide-open, but thankfully he was still wearing his shorts. He almost looked dead. The only sign of life was when he raised his beer bottle to his lips.

His gaze was fixed upon her in the most macabre way, as if his eyes had been paralyzed by some debilitating sickness. His expressionless face implied calmness, or even boredom at the sexual encounter unfolding before his very eyes. But Marcy could hear the cat calls he was hooting in his head; the crude thoughts he kept to himself only because he feared Marcy might stop performing if he spoke them out loud.

She sheepishly repositioned her left arm to cover her nipples. But then she remembered that the whole reason she'd agreed to this exhibitionistic game was to aggravate Brad's desire for her. She certainly wasn't going to accomplish that by being shy.

Like a dancer, she made one motion flow seamlessly into the next and instead of covering herself, suddenly she was cupping and lifting her breasts in the most conspicuous way possible. She stared Brad down and slowly licked her lips as she squeezed her voluptuous assets and made them billow before his eyes.

There was a tic: a scowl that flickered upon the right corner of Brad's mouth. It lasted only a fraction of a second, but Marcy caught it. It told her that her little display wasn't pleasing Brad, it was tormenting him. Her plan was succeeding! And she was only just getting started.

Thoughts of escalating the provocative show brought Marcy back into the moment: the friendly tongue driving her clit wild and the lusty hands clenched upon her ass cheeks. Paul seemed to be having a ball manipulating her petite derriere just as he had manipulated her tits. Yet he was savvy enough to know that her buttocks were much less sensitive and he didn't hesitate to give his grip the extra bite it needed to stimulate her. Marcy was amazed that a guy as inexperienced as Paul could be so intuitively good with his hands.

He wasn't half bad with his tongue, either. With a little tutelage he could become a real pleasure machine. But that would have to wait for another time. Right now, the void between her legs was starving for some nice hard cock and she wasn't in the mood to hold out on it any longer.

Breaking away from Paul's embrace, Marcy sidestepped around him, forcing him to change his orientation slightly and stretch his legs out on the sand. This was going to happen, but she wanted it to happen a particular way.

Her haste to straddle him and kneel over his lap betrayed how excited she was. Paul, who was more eager still, had her locked in a tight embrace before she could steady herself. Another round of kissing ensued; lips and tongues tangling with one another in mad desperation, as if tonight was their last night on Earth and they had precious little time to savor the pleasures of the opposite sex. Marcy drifted away when she ran out of breath, but Paul kept going, teething her ear and adoring her neck in a way that was liable to leave a hickey.

Marcy awoke from the daze of her passion and peered over Paul's shoulder to see Brad sitting directly in front of her, watching them with the same keen daze and cool manner as before. This was why she'd reoriented Paul: so she could face Brad head-on - the way she always faced her problems when she was at her best and boldest. He would get the perfect view of her goods in action. It was sure to give him the most excruciating hard-on he'd ever had in his life! And come hell or high water, she would make sure that throbbing need got no release!

She taunted him with her eyes.

Marcy shuffled forward until Paul's rigid organ was pressing firmly against her mons. She raised her hips and shifted them around until she had the tip of his manhood cupped between her vaginal lips. Paul, who was still ravenously kissing her neck, made an odd moan, almost as if he were trying to say something. It sounded uncomfortable and Marcy suspected that he was starting to feel nervous about his first ever proper fuck.

Under different circumstances, she probably would've been more patient, more gentle, to make this special milestone as enjoyable as possible for him. But as it was, she had Brad tied to the spit and ready to fry; she didn't want Paul's anxieties to bring her scheme to a premature halt.

Besides, she was so horny, her body wouldn't have paid her much attention if she told it to slow down.

Distracting him with a passionate kiss, she dropped herself on to Paul's magnificent boner. It filled her splendidly!

He made another muffled noise, much louder than the first, excited and confused all at once. Marcy didn't hesitate. She grabbed him by the upper arms and threw her full weight forward. Paul, who could not have predicted the move, fell back, hitting the sand with a sharp grunt. Marcy loomed over him in all her buxom splendor. Her long brown hair cascaded over the left side of her head and practically brushed against Paul's cheek. By the time they came to rest, she had him pinned to the ground, her hands locked around his biceps like iron shackles. She was convinced that once she'd shown him what her pussy could do for him, he'd forget all about his virgin anxieties. But in the meantime, she needed to maintain control.

She began riding him immediately.

"But... You don't use condoms?" Paul asked at almost a whisper.

Was that what he'd been so anxious about?

"Don't worry. I'm healthy," Marcy curtly assured him in a breathy voice. They were having fun. Frankly it was a little annoying that he was about to let the piddling little guidelines from sex ed crash their party.

As she looked down at him she could tell that her response hadn't really put his mind at ease. His eyes were wide open in... panic? Or was it shock? No, it was awe. Awe from discovering what it felt like to have his manhood worked by a hot pussy. His eyes glazed over and his mouth curled into a tentative smile as he lost himself in the incredible pleasure.

Marcy set an ambitious pace of vigorous thrusting. Her crotch ground hard upon Paul's in a cycle set by raw instinct. Her head tilted towards the sky while his rod beat upon the sweet spots of her womanhood as if they were bells to be rung. Her ample breasts started to heave and sway wildly, from the sheer energy of her motions. All the while, Paul remained pinned beneath her full body weight, trapped with no hope of escape until Marcy had had her way with him.

A peep of arousal slipped from Marcy's lips. She barely even realized she'd made it. Then she opened her eyes and once again saw Brad, sipping calmly at his beer. She smirked wickedly as she decided she would give him a little music to accompany his show.

She closed her eyes again and let out a long, wanton moan. It was quite flagrant, yet also mild enough for her to be able to build upon it. The noises kept coming. She made a habit of teasing Brad with a few seconds of merciful silence, lull him in to believing she had finished toying with him, before dishing out yet another moan, louder and more excited than the last.

By next time she opened her eyes, Brad's expression had barely changed, but his eyes were burning with resentment. Despite his attempt to conceal it, Marcy could tell he was overcome with frustration. He looked like he had a valve somewhere inside him that was about to burst under the pressure. This was certainly not a man who was enjoying himself.

Marcy grinned at her triumph, but even in her victory she had no intention of easing off winding back her retribution, far from it. She sat fully upright, maintaining a spirited rocking in her hips to keep the coital motion going. Paul leaned up and Marcy pulled his head firmly into her right breast. He completely buried his face in its yielding mass and suckled while blubbering a series of mindless, indulgent sounds. His hand soon found its way on to her other breast and played with it.

While Paul had his fun, Marcy peered over his shoulder and stared Brad straight in the eye. She couldn't close her mouth due to her heavy breathing. Her parted lips bore a subtle curl of carnal euphoria. Yet amid her enraptured expression, she made sure to project all her delicious spite to the disrespectful asshole staring back at her.

There were no words spoken between them, but Marcy's message to Brad could not have been clearer, "You see this? This sweet body you've been lusting over for so long? Well, take a good, long look! This guy here, he is getting it all! Absolutely everything! And you? You will *never* have any of it!"

Brad's simultaneous response was just as silent, and just as clear, "Fuck you, bitch!"

Marcy felt Paul's body going slack. The mouth on her right boob, the hand on her left, both lost their strength and coordination. She knew what it meant: all his energy was pooling in his loins for the big finish. He gently collapsed back on to the sand, with the only remaining sign of life being the hands brushing weakly against the sides of her tits.

She leaned over him and began thrusting in earnest once more. She grunted softly with every exertion. They weren't as showy as the noises she'd made earlier, but they conveyed a greater sense of urgency.

Marcy hoped Paul would make it obvious when he came. She wanted to see Brad's face boil bright red with jealousy as he watched another guy have the one experience he desired above all others: blowing his load inside of Marcy. It was a rather pointless wish as Marcy had closed her eyes by this point and wouldn't open them again until well after they had finished.

Paul's hands clenched upon the skin of her back, just below her shoulders. He made a barely-audible grunt which immediately decayed into loud, ragged breathing. Marcy could tell he had cum. It was nice timing as she was incredibly close herself.

She plunged her excited womanhood on to that hard cock two, maybe three more times before an almighty shiver shot right through her body. It was short, but sweet; a jolt of pure sexual electricity. She gasped sharply and by the time it was all over, no more than two seconds later, all her strength was gone. Suddenly, all she felt from head to toe was heaviness. She collapsed gently upon her impromptu lover and she felt his arms loosely embracing her. One hand made itself at home on her ass.

As orgasms went, it certainly wasn't going to make Marcy's top ten list, but nevertheless, it was a rewarding outcome to the night's activity.

She hadn't forgotten her little psychological war with Brad and she thought it'd be fun to rub a little salt in his wounds. So she began lavishing Paul with gracious kisses, as if she couldn't thank him enough for the ecstasy he'd given her. Paul was so thoroughly spent he didn't seem to notice.

Marcy's show of affection only continued for a while, until weariness got the better of her and she laid her head down on the sand alongside Paul's.

It took some time for her to recuperate enough to raise it again. When she did, the sight that greeted her came as quite a shock. Brad's big, pink cock towered shamelessly up from within the waistband of his shorts and his right hand was madly fapping away at it. It was enough to shatter Marcy's post-coital mellow and bring her crashing back to Earth.

Brad continued to stare at his 'visual aid,' namely, Marcy's naked body, with the slack-jawed look of someone who had nothing going on in their head, except perhaps dirty thoughts. He must've realized he'd been caught, but he didn't seem to care one iota.

"Ooooooh! Fuck off, Brad!" Marcy snarled as she hurled the only readily-available weapon she could find: a chunk of charcoal from the fire about the size of a cigarette pack.

The charcoal missed him, but only just. It zoomed over his right shoulder.

Marcy had soon grabbed a similar-sized chunk and held it up behind her right ear in a threatening pose. Brad paused for a moment with his dick in his hand while he sized the situation up. He could probably dodge anything she threw at him or he could stick around and jerk off. But he couldn't do both at the same time. It didn't take him long to realize he'd been beaten.

"Man, fuck this shit!" he quietly seethed, shaking his head. He stood up and stomped back towards the woods, tucking his cock back in to his pants as he went.

Marcy watched him carefully until he had disappeared in to the darkness. Only then did she relinquish her crude weapon by chucking it back towards the campfire.

Now that he was gone, Marcy was finally able to take stock of what had just happened. Even though Brad had managed to find one last opportunity to irk her, she ultimately believed her scheme to get back at him had been a resounding success. She had just told him, in the most scathing way possible, that she would never, ever stoop to having sex with him. His ego wouldn't quickly recover from a battering like that. Moreover, knowing that he would never get to enjoy the amazing, vivacious body he'd watched tonight would be a disappointment that would probably gnaw at him for the rest of his testosterone-saturated life.

Marcy glanced down and was reminded of the other man caught up in the night's drama.

She was still straddling him. As a matter of fact, she could still feel Paul's cock inside her. Though most of its spirit had long since faded. Her belly was roasting and no doubt flooded with a thick soup of man-love; a souvenir, as it were, from what had been quite an invigorating little tryst. Even now, the spontaneity of it all tickled her, made her feel naughty, crazy, excited... alive.

She watched her gallant helper for a little while. He was just lying there, eyes closed, practically lifeless except for his chest, which was still rising and falling heavily as he struggled to catch his breath. Marcy couldn't help but be flattered. It was always a point of pride to know she'd properly wrecked a guy - especially when it was her first time with him.

Nonetheless, the deed was done now and she had no intention of kneeling naked on the beach all night long. As soon as she started to move, Marcy realized how goddamn sore her thighs were. Not surprising, they'd been pumping away like mad earlier.

When he felt her shifting, Paul's hands weakly reached out to caress her thighs. Marcy didn't resist, but neither did she hang around for his benefit. He had only as long as it would take her to climb off of him to satisfy whatever lingering urges he had to feel her up.

Marcy took a second to steady herself on her sore legs, then gathered up the nearby pieces of her bikini. With tactful silence, she left her latest lover and padded off down to the lake to do a quick clean-up.

---------

When Marcy had packed the bath salts, it had been little more than a pie in the sky hope that she would actually get a chance to use them. In reality, she had expected to be so tied up with fun activities during this vacation that she probably wouldn't be able to find a good hour or two to just lay back in a fragrant bath and relax.

But tonight, she decided she would make the time! Frankly, she needed it. She needed to make a peaceful space for herself where she could just unwind after the infuriating events that had occurred on the beach.

It took a long time, but she eventually managed to shed the vast majority of her frustration; almost as if she had expelled it through her pores into the soft, buoyant water around her.

She and Joe were through. At some point, she expected she should feel a twinge of heartbreak over that sad truth. But at the moment, she couldn't help but feel content with the sheer simplicity of it. In fact, it actually felt surprisingly liberating to suddenly be single again. Of course, living under the same small roof as her now-ex boyfriend for the next couple of days would no doubt be awkward, but she would deal with those trials as they came.

She hadn't exactly told Joe it was over. But he was an idiot if he believed anything else. Wasted or not, there was no way she was going to stay with a guy who was prepared to pass her around to his friends, like a cheap sex toy.

Her mind wandered and she began to think about Brad, probably in a more objective light than he deserved.

It truly boggled her mind how he could be so crass as to make that suggestion.

It wasn't just unacceptable, it was unthinkable! She literally couldn't fathom how such a dreadful idea could just pop into someone's head! That's why she'd been so floored when he'd first said it; she just couldn't anticipate the depths of Brad's sleaze.

Part of her began to wonder if, in some way, she herself was to blame - being... the way she was.

It wasn't the first time today that these thoughts had troubled her. In the hours after she'd given Paul a blowjob, earlier that morning, she had reflected on her trouble with Brad the previous night and wondered if there was some correlation between the two events. Did being the kind of woman who would give head to a casual acquaintance, just because he looked like he needed a pick-me-up, somehow send a message to guys like Brad saying, "Here I am. Come and get me."?

She thought about how mortified her old fashioned mother and grandparents would be if they had any clue how active her sex life was. If they knew how she lived and then found out about the way Brad had forced himself upon her the previous night, she suspected they would tell her that she was merely "reaping what she had sown." They weren't without love. They would certainly get furious with Brad and protective of her. But ultimately, they would hold it over her as a teachable moment; the lesson being that a promiscuous lifestyle like hers invites perverts the way playing with matches invites disaster.

After all the trouble she'd had in the past 24 hours, Marcy couldn't help but wonder if there was more wisdom in those old attitudes than she cared to admit.

Even reflecting on her actions tonight, she began to regret her impulsiveness. Fucking Paul right in front of Brad had seemed like such a clever idea at the time. But in hindsight, it seemed much more petty.

She had managed to piss Brad off, there was no doubt about that. But now he was walking around with a very graphic memory of watching her having hot sex. She sighed in displeasure as it finally occurred to her that she'd just given him some top-shelf masturbation fuel. She didn't want to think about how many times he was going to jerk himself off, picturing her naked body bucking to and fro in the light of a campfire.

Her plan had been to make Brad bitter; to sting him in such a way that he'd never try pulling his crap on her again. But now she began to worry that walking around with that erotic mental image of her in his head might in fact make him more determined to have her. In the long run, her behavior tonight might actually make her problems with Brad worse, not better.

Only time would tell. For now, she could only hope things would get easier.

As her introspection continued, Marcy recalled the look on Paul's face as she hurled him on to the sand earlier that night; the panic in his eyes when her moist snatch finally spread itself over his naked cock.