tagFetishMarion

Marion

byvqfarrold©

The jeep jolted along the ruts of the bush track. We'd travelled for an hour through eucalypt forest, shaded by the massive trees, but now as we neared the coast the soil had become sandy and the forest had given way to scrub and the sunlight was slanting into the front of the cab.

Marion slid down in the passenger seat and lifted her feet onto the dash, into the warmth of the sun. She wiggled her toes and admired the red-painted nails. "This Paul," she said. "Tell me about him."

"I work with him," I said. "He has the office next to mine. I don't know him that well - occasionally we go out and have a coffee together. Some lunchtimes we play a game of squash. He mentioned he likes the bush, said he knew about this place. So I suggested we could take a day-trip here together.

"He's a nuggetty bloke," I went on, thinking that she might like a physical description, "shorter than average, stocky, thick across the shoulders, bull neck. Like a rugby player. Maybe he lifts weights. His hair's thinning at the front, so he crops it short. Ginger-haired, he is, sandy complexion. He isn't married - maybe divorced, maybe separated, maybe just never married - I never asked."

I didn't tell her the most interesting thing about Paul, though. I was going to let her find that out for herself.

The cab was warming up now, under the direct heat of the sun. I wound the window right down. The cicadas were sending a wall of shrill sound across the bush. I stole a glance at Marion. I'd told her there was nowhere to change at the beach we were going to, so she'd worn her swimmers under her clothes, a one piece costume cut low at the back, and over it a pair of cut-off jeans and a check shirt.

She was a creature of the warmth, like a lizard. She reached into the back of the cab for the water bottle. Her generous breasts rolled as she twisted around. She lifted the bottle to her lips, took a long draught, swallowed, and drank again until the container was empty. A trickle of water ran down her chin, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

After another ten minutes the track entered a clearing. Paul's four wheel drive was pulled up at the far end. He was squatting next to it, in the shade of a tree, having a smoke. I drew up alongside. He threw his cigarette into the sand, stood up and walked across to greet us. "Found the place OK?" I introduced Marion. She looked him up and down. Barefoot, wearing only shorts and a tank top. In spite of his sandy complexion, he had a skin that could take the sun. It was burnt a deep, golden brown. The hair was thick all over his body. On his legs, his arms, his shoulders, a mat of hair the colour of copper.

"How far to the beach?" Marion asked. I couldn't hear the surf pounding, so I knew it must be some way off. "It's half an hour's walk," he said. "So let's go." He pulled on his pack and set off. I made to follow him, but Marion held back. She looked around the clearing. I thought of all the water she had drunk, the length of time we had been in the jeep, and wondered whether she needed to relieve herself. But then she shrugged, pulled on her pack and followed Dave.

We descended into a gully and the scrub became thick, melaleucas and banksias, pressing in from the sides, arching over our heads. Bees hummed in the bottlebrush flowers. The track was rough and narrow. Dave took quick, sure steps, holding his arms out occasionally to balance himself as he descended. His buttocks were large and firm and they worked under his shorts as he walked. Marion, I could see, was studying them.

I studied her: tall, square shouldered, straight backed, dark hair, unfashionably long, which she had woven into a single plait which hung down her back and swayed from side to side as she walked. Narrow waist, which, with her full, shapely buttocks, formed an inverted heart. Long, brown, smooth legs.

Ten minutes more and I still could not hear the roar of the ocean, but below us, hidden by the bush, I heard a creek running. Marion slowed, and I caught up with her. She stopped, and waited till Paul was out of earshot, then she leaned back and whispered in my ear, "How much further, do you think?"

Now I was sure of it. The sound of the trickling water had created an urgency. I searched for a way to dissuade her from stopping, disappearing into the bushes to relieve herself. "It can't be far now," I said. I pressed against her. "We'd better keep moving. There are leeches around this part of the coast." She screwed up her face in disgust. Any thought she had of stopping had vanished. She squeezed her thighs together for an instant, then quickly walked on.

And after ten more minutes we emerged abruptly from the bush onto the shore. The beach was a crescent of gold a kilometer long, bounded at both ends by ragged cliffs. against whose bases the sea pounded. No other form of life than us, and the gulls wheeling around overhead.

Paul walked through the soft sand, to where a fringe of sea-weed marked the high tide mark. He threw down his pack and pulled off his singlet. Marion propped herself on first one leg, then the other, pulling off her sandals.

She should have done the safe thing then- run to the water's edge, quickly pulled off her shirt and shorts, and dived in, allowing the shock of the cold water to relax her bladder, releasing herself into the cool, enveloping sea, where no-one could see. But she didn't do that. She was curious. She was attracted by his masculinity. There was an animal quality to it - the short, muscular body, the coarse hair which covered it. Her curiosity overcame her need.

She couldn't be overt about it. He was standing gazing out over the sea, running his hands over his scalp. She stopped level with him, but about four yards to the right, not too close but close enough. I knew what she was thinking. She was wondering whether, like her, he was wearing his swimmers under his shorts, or whether he would need to change into them. She was wondering whether she was going to catch a glimpse of his cock.

I watched from behind. My heart began to beat faster. I knew what she was going to see, and I could imagine what the effect on her would be.

Paul looped his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts. She was undoing her shirt, and as she pulled the sleeve down her left arm, she stole a glimpse sideways. The white band of his jockey shorts showed. He was going to have to change. I knew what she was thinking. She wondered whether it was going to be big, whether it would dangle down lewdly when he pulled down his underpants, or whether it would be small, nestled up in the hair of his belly, like a bird peeking out of its nest. I could see all this going through her mind.

She unbuttoned her denim shorts and allowed them to drop to the sand. He was standing in his underpants now. He pulled them down, stepped out of them, and straightened. Marion chose this moment to bend forward and pick her shorts up from the sand. Bent at that angle, she would only have to turn her head slightly to get a good look at him. I watched her closely. She had her feet slightly apart and she bent from the waist. Her glorious buttocks parted and her labia pressed against the fabric of her swimsuit, like the halves of a peach. She was supple and she bent until her hands almost touched the ground. She tilted her head to steal a sly look at Paul, and then she saw it.

I saw her body stiffen with shock. I heard her make a sharp intake of breath, a hissing sound as the air whistled between her teeth. My heart was pounding now. I felt a trickle of sweat run down my sides. Her labia enlarged even more, and then I saw what I had been waiting for. With the shock of it, she lost control. The material between her legs suddenly darkened with moisture. A trickle of moisture seeped through and ran down the inside of her leg.

Her buttocks and the backs of her thighs tensed as she tightened her sphincter desperately to stop the flow. I felt a sudden twinge. My penis was ferociously erect, and painfully constrained within my briefs. I was light-headed, almost faint.

For a moment she was mesmerised, like a rabbit hypnotised by a snake. If she stayed like that, she would lose control completely, it would gush out and run down her legs. She dropped down to the soft dry sand with her feet tucked in behind her buttocks and her mount pressed firmly against the sand and her thighs pressed together, hiding the dampness in her crotch.

He stood there oblivious to all this with his penis hanging out, enormous, dangling half-way down his thighs. Marion had abandoned all pretence at disinterest - she was staring openly at it, taking sharp, shallow breaths, her face bright red with embarrasment.

He stepped into his swimmers and pulled them up his legs. The band came up under his dick, lifting it outward. He casually gasped it in his hand, stuffed it down the front, hitched the swimmers up around his waste then jogged off toward the surf. The whole episode had taken no more than few seconds. It might have been a dream.

I knelt down behind Marion, almost straddling her, my thighs on either side of her hips, my penis pressed up against the small of her back. I put my hands on her shoulders and drew her gently back toward me. My mouth was dry. 'What do you think of Paul,' I whispered in her ear. At least it was meant to be a whisper, but my voice came out strangled, quavery.

'He's - he's so big,' she whispered back.

I moved my hand down to her belly. It felt hard, distended.

'I'm very full,' she said. 'I should have gone in the car park. I wanted to go all the way down to the beach. When I saw it, I got such a shock, I lost control. I pissed in my pants.'

'It's so big,' she went on. 'It was hanging down like a horse's cock.' Her hips rocked gently from side to side. She was rubbing her sex against the soft sand, using her words to excite herself.

I slipped my hands inside her swimmers and cupped her breasts. They were large and firm and the nipples were as hard as acorns. 'It's all right,' I said, 'You can finish. Just let it go.' She turned her head back. Her eyes were closed. 'I'm going to do it,' she said. 'I can't hold it in any more. I'm letting go. I'm letting go now.'

The hips were rocking faster now. She twisted her head back and I kissed her and pushed my tongue into her mouth. She parted her thighs. I heard the hissing sound and smelt the strong, ammoniac smell of her urine. I felt my juices gather, deep in my belly. They gathered strength and forced their way upward until I squirted again and again in my swimmers.

After some time she opened her eyes. Paul was far away now, swimming into the clear water beyond the breakers. 'I've finished now,' she said. 'You've been naughty too. Let's go for a swim.'

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