Old Fisherman On Spring Break

Old Fisherman On Spring Break

The Old Fisherman staked out his spot far down at the end of the long beach. There was a bit of shade from an old banyan that had strayed that way from the river to the south. It was a sizable walk from the parking lot area; but he did carry much: his deepsea casting rod and a rucksack with trail mix, drinks, his cheroots, a few lures, a bone or two in the secret pocket.

He took pains to get down this end of the beach because in this season the beach went mad with Spring Break kids. And they seemed to get rowdier every year. Because there was hard-packed sand they brought their jeeps and ATVs and even motorcycles. So it got noisy with engines, and they started fires and threw all sorts of shit in them, stinking up the place. And they brought kegs, and bottles and cans and chucked them in the water, or left them in piles on the sand. Chicken bones, ribs and all kinds of plastic. And they left behind bathing suits and bra tops and underwear, and lots and lots of condoms.

After the Spring Break madness Monte and him and maybe some others would go up and down the strand with serious garbage bags, picking up all the kids' shit. It got old.

But right about now they were still noisy as hell, often playing competing rap and head banger rock, leaving the motors running, blatting the engines on the cycles, screaming and yelling at each other from competing campfires.

He liked to come early when they were still sleeping off the debauchery of the night before or sometimes like now in the evening if the tide was right.

At this far end the sand got soft, so most vehicles stayed away. There were big old chunks of concrete, the remains of a washed-out jetty from someone's failed dream resort, making a place to anchor his rod after he got a good cast and could just leave the sucker to see what might eat his lure. There was a dropoff about twenty yards out and he rigged the bait to dangle out there. Worked pretty well. He caught snook or redfish sometimes. Cooked it on a stick over a small fire made of driftwood.

So he was sitting against this tilted slab, smoking, sipping, watching the little flag on his float. After a while he realized he was hearing giggles, snarky murmurs, female talk, the clink of bottles.

He peered around his rocky backrest and spotted three college girls clustered up the beach a bit where the sand turned to dunes. A vape was passing among them and they all were drinking from bottles. Blond with very short curly hair; red-brunette tiny bit heavy set, and a Black gal with serious braids. Everybody was nicely built. Two bikinis and a one piece cut high and low. Various kinds of wraps and pareos and shawls. So, not slobs. A bit of class. But...

"Okay, okay, I promise I'll give you all the rest of this beer, Lannie, if you can give that old guy over there a stiffie without ever ever touching him."

Lannie was the curvy gal.

"Jacquie, you drucking funk. Why would I want to embarrass myself in front of some grizzly old stranger just for a sip of your brew? There's plenty of slosh back at the campfire, and I've got a bladderful anyway. I'ma gonna go widdle back of that tree over there anyway."

The third gal chimed in. "Lan Lan, don't piss on that tree. You'll probably kill it, what with all the chemicals in your system. Go whiz in the ocean, or if you wanna earn that half beer, go pee in front of the old guy and see if that's his kink. Lotta guys dream of watching women wee.

"Whadda ya say fella? Would you fancy seeing my friend micturate?"

The blonde let out a whoop. "Ooo, premed princess is showing off her getadoctor savvy. Look out!"

Lannie got up, walked over and squatted in front of the Old Fisherman, pulled her bathing suit shorts aside revealing a serious dark bush; shot a stream of foaming urine onto the sand; added a sprinkle or two; stood up and returned to her buds. She clinked bottles with her Black braided buddy.

Jacquie with blonde curls lifted her bottle in a salute to the Old Fisherman.

"Hey, old fella, did that start your engine? Half of this bottle rides on your answer."

The Old Fisherman saluted back with his thermos.

"Sorry, ladies. As you noted, I'm old. It takes a bit more than a quick flash of damp beaver to get my party started. Sorry, Lannie is it? Hate to leave you thirsty."

"Hey, I just needed to pee. If you had risen to the occasion that would have been a bonus."

The blond giggled. "A boner."

"That, too."

For a while there was just the sounds of the waves and the gulls.

"Lannie? What? You're too quiet."

"Quiet's good. Quiet's peaceful. Besides..."

"Yes...?"

"I'm feeling my body."

"You are? Okay, your arms are crossed across your boobs, but feeling...?"

"No, I mean like sensing what is going on. And I'm feeling like that piss was a simple thing, but it tipped something over. I kind of want to fuck the world. I don't mean fuck every boy in the world. It's not that. It's more like the sun and the smells, and the sand, and the fire way down there, and you two so...womanly, and the old guy in his denims and the fishing rod. And somewhere out there...there a fish and whales and dolphins.... And peeing in the sand kind of made me want to open up and fuck all of that, together as one big thing...just let it all come up inside me ... wow."

"Did you do a lot of Molly, Lannie? Cause that was ...."

"Out there."

"Yup. And nope. It's that kind of night. "

The Black girl got up, a bit unsteady, the silver tips of her braids jingling.

"Uh huh, figure this for instance..."

She walked over behind her friend Lannie; stood for a moment with her legs pressing against Lannie's back, then bending over from the waist, took Lannie's chin in her hand and pressed her full lips onto those of the seated women. Not just a sweet sisterly smooch. Non-stop. Not dumb porno gobbling the mouth, but a strong, full, moist leaning-into-it until you are lost in it kiss. A very low long-lasting moan emerged from Lannie. After a while Sherry stopped kissing but remained bent over, her full braids making a veil around their faces.

"Sherry. Oh. That was...perfect. Can we do it again, please? Right now."

They closed in another kiss. Sherry's hand snaked around one of Lannie's full breasts, two fingers closing on a plump nipple hidden by very thin fabric. The Old Fisherman, watching from many feet away, could only see an odd-shaped form, the hair, the wraps, an arm, a leg. Looked like ...maybe like one of Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures. The small sounds that rose from both of them now touched him at the base of his balls. This did have the power to get a rise out of him, though he was seeing nothing.

He noticed that in the sunset light the slim blonde was affected too. Her gaze was fixed on her friends, knees pressed tight against her breasts, her mouth open and loose, her eyes hungry. One pale hand seemed to be exploring something in the dark hollow between her legs. She spoke, her voice silvery.

"Hey. Hey guys? Can I...like...join you? Or should I go away? Maybe try cuddling with...him? Cause...damn, Lan, you got me with what you said."

"Come. Come here." The two muffled voices called almost at the same moment.

Jacquie got up slowly and giggled softly. "Shoot, it was you who peed, and here I am so...damn...wet. Maybe it's the sand." She raised the hand that had been exploring herself to her nose. "Nope. Definitely me."

She planted herself crosslegged in front of the larger girl, kind of under her knees. At the same time Sherry lowered her long-limbed frame behind Lannie; her legs cradling Lannie's back.

Now there was a rounder, more compact sculpture sitting on a pareo on a soft patch of sand just below the eel grass, opposite a full moon that was rising over the ocean and making a rippled path toward them across the dark sea.

A murmur. "Sherry, I'll squeeze her left one if you wanna take the right? Whoa, girlfriend's got some big hard nips."

In the dimming light he thought he saw the curly blonde meet her larger friend's mouth in a long kiss and then trail her mouth down to Lannie's chest, lifting a breast with its thick nipple to her eager lips.

If I bend in I can just...." Her voice became muffled. "Oh god that tastes good. Like eating a marshmallow."

"The larger woman was groaning, her head back on her Sherry's shoulder, giving in to it all.

A giggle from Sherry. "I think Jacquie was hungry. Small girl, big appetite."

"Sorry Sherry, we didn't mean to leave you out."

"Oh I'm not out any more, I'm way in. Can I go in farther, Lannie?"

"You can."

A sexy grunt.

"Can you take three?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay, her goes." A gasp.

Noisy liquid silence.

Lannie's voice started rising between pants. "Sherry...can...you...slip...off...your...top so I can...oh, oh god...feel your nips ...on...my ...back. Oh yes, oh yes. Perfect."

And after a bit Lannnie murmured in a throaty voice. "Hey, Jac, I think you're missing out. I'm going to reach under you."

"Yeah, if you want to ...that's ... that's..."

A tiny moan.

"Wow Jac you're as gushy as I am."

Squirming. Rustling. Giggling. Sherry spoke.

"Hey, Lan I'm getting a nice rub against your teeny backside."

"Teeny, my ass."

"Exactly."

"But I want more of that front side. I'm just going to reach waaay down here....Wow, you got some serious fur there, and what's this, a formidable stiffie."

"Shut up and rub it."

"K. Like this?"

"Oh, fuck me!"

"We will."

No one spoke for a while, but the growing night was not silent. There was the sound of effort. That strange bundle was moaning, hissing, crying, and breathing hard in three different rhythms. It was the sexiest thing the Old Fisherman had ever heard, and he had heard a mermaid yearning to be filled. This was so quiet, and yet so strong, and he could feel each woman aching toward her release, but riding the high of ecstasy as long as it would last.

The Old Fisherman fished. But his pecker was hard as his fishing rod. It got harder as the small sounds grew a louder. The bundle of women shifted but maintained its shape.

"I'm going in deep."

"Aah! Then I am too."

"Sheeit! That's ..."

"More. Harder.." Another patch of anything but silence. Breaths. Groans. Gasps. Desperate little whispers.

"Yeah...no...yeah...just...just...forward a little...."

"Okay, go ahead. A little faster. "

"There! Just....don't stop."

"Oh shit yeah!"

"Just keep....uh huh...kind of ...tug. Wait! Yeah. Yeah!"

"Uh, oh UH. Deeper, yuh...that's it."

"Please...please...please just keep doing that ....kind of ...whoa...soft, yeah..yeah, that's it."

A deep puppy cry. An answering wail. Breathing hard like finishing a race.

It was sort of quiet for a while, the close bundle of women rocking and the Old Fisherman couldn't tell whether he was hearing the lapping of the waves at low tide, or his breath, or breeze in the grass, or a groan, or the hum of his taught line. Did gulls cry at this hour of the evening? Was it his neighbors or his own harsh panting in his ears?

Suddenly something shifted, broke open, and there was rustling and whispering and giggling.

"Lannie, Lannie, you can't be serious? Really? You are such a cum whore. We were doing so well here just by ourselves. You really want to bring a man into this? This is so good. This is so us."

"Yeah, yeah, no no, I know. But I have a thing. I'm sorry. Sometimes I need that guy funk to really get off. I mean, all your musky cunts are making me super hot. But now I want to get over. And I need that...that bean sprout smell, that ...."

"Bean sprouts? Girl, you are coming close to killing my good buzz and I was close to coming in a way I haven't.... But hey, it's your party. So what do you want to do?"

Lannie's smokey voice rose from the bundle of womanhood.

"Mister? Mr. Fisherman?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you turned on yet?"

"I am."

"Is it stiff yet?"

"It is, as stiff as driftwood."

"Would you mind coming over here and letting me...letting us suck it? Dry."

"I would like that."

He got up; a little stiff in more ways than one, and made his way up through the soft sand to the bundle of women.

"You're going to need to drop them."

He did, and his trousers were on the sand, warm breeze on his dick, his balls, his ass.

When he stepped up to the women they sort of enveloped him. Arms from two different directions wrapped around his legs, hands nestling just below his balls. Lannie had the privilege of taking his cock in one damp hand. It was standing up straighter than it had in years, right in her face, so she had no trouble engulfing it in her large mouth. He felt the hot breath of the other two on his belly as Lannie began to suck.

She wasn't shy about it. What he had heard was right; and he could see her nostrils flare as she breathed in his man-smell. Her cheeks pulled until they were hollow and the pressure on his knob was almost painful. The other two had serious handfuls of his ass.

He could tell from the harsh breathing, small gasps, liquid sounds, and shaking that action was still going on below. Someone was lost in a love bite on the side of his belly. Lannie was sucking so loud and liquid that wetness was flowing down onto his balls.

"Don't be greedy, Lannie. Us want some too. But we promise you the first spurt."

"Okay, okay ... but give it back soon, cuz I was getting that open up and let go feeling down below."

"Fine." A moment of cool air and then Jacquie was taking him in. Mouth stuffed with cock, she murmured. "I didn't realize you were so big. My last guys never filled my mouth like this. It pushes on my tongue."

Jacquie squealed deep in her throat, and he realized the big gal was churning the pudding of her little blond friend for all she was worth.

"Easy gals. Don't nobody bite me."

Sherry took that as a dare and dug deep into Lannie's soft bits, creating a certain amount of commotion. Jacquie wanted to be the one to get him off because she was pistoning his rod in and out of her mouth. He groaned.

"Hey Jac, we promised Lannie first cream and I haven't had my popsicle time yet," Sherry's deep alto laugh made the blond pause.

"Oh Sherry, you're a party pooper."

"Well, you can apply those talented lips to Lannie's tit again."

There was some shifting around and he found himself offering his cock over Lannie's shoulder while his nuts crushed happily into the chubby woman's breast bone.

Sherry wasn't shy. She sucked and his full rod went down her throat. She kept it there, rocking, just in and out a fraction, no gagging. He felt the hand she had on Lannie's breast slide up and cup his balls. A small squeeze and that urge wanted to squirt the hot juice out.

"He's ready, Lannie." Sherry pulled his throbbing rod from her throat with a gasp and slid it across Lannie's cheek to her eager mouth. No stopping now.

He felt them all lean in, crushing around him, a most incredible sensation; three women all just short of orgasm, hips loose, vulvas slippery, mouths hungry, hands buried deep in each other's bodies, asses clenching with the eagerness to squeeze out the promised release.

Lannie was pumping him with her mouth like it was her cunt. It was as though they were one organism. The moans and cries and eager breaths were all mixed up, even his own, although he found himself going deep in his chest and growling like some great beast. This sent a shiver through the group and the cries became desperate. Even Lannie, cock deep in her mouth, was groaning around it.

A chorus of need.

"Yes. Oh please. Oh yes. So ready. Oh yes, oh no. I'm losing it. I'm going. Harder please. More now. Yes. that's... oh deeper."

Soon they weren't words. Just animals aching for release.

And then the terrible urge to let go.

Time stopped. His cock was deep in the midst of female strength, and then, with a shudder, they each started cumming, them first, very special, very strange as he felt each one let go, crying into the night, as Lannie had said, fucking the whole world, shuddering against each other. And then that wonderful urgency came up in the root of his groin, and he knew it was going to be a big one, standing and straining, almost, almost, almost....

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

He was lost, his balls so tight, squeezing hard to get every drop out. He couldn't help reaching into the women's hair, crushing their heads tight to his belly; feeling the hot spurt go deep and feeling the desperate gulp, and then another one. And a second mouth surrounded him as a second spurt exploded out, and a third, and aftershocks, and laughing and licking his spunk off each others' messy lips. Like kittens with rough tongues on his belly and up and down his shaft and on each others' faces. The amazing feel of sweaty breasts rubbing against his legs. Wet vulvas grinding against his feet.

Lannie was still cumming. Even after he finished, after the others were more quiet; her thick thigh crushing against him; threatening to topple him; except that he was held so tight by hands and legs and breasts and heads in the sexy circle.

After some time; panting, shuddering, giggling, the love knot relaxed and he could sense that they needed to release him. He slid away backwards, a bit shaky in the sand and scooped up his trousers.

As he approached his little camp he noticed that his fishing line was taut. Had it snagged on a bunch of kelp, or was there something on his hook? Bareass, he grabbed the rod and started reeling in. Whatever it was was pretty big, putting up a nice struggle, pulling him toward the water. But he managed to get it in the shallows without snapping the line. Fair sized snook. He snagged the gills and lifted it from the water.

Perhaps he was silhouetted against the moonlight because, as he lifted his prize, small cheers and clapping came from his companions up in the dunes.

He did a funky bow and brought the fish back to a flat slab where he beheaded, gutted, and filleted it. Skewering the meat on some driftwood sticks; he made a little fire in a circle of rocks and started the fish cooking over it. Before long the pungent smoke of roast snook was drifting toward his 'lovers'.

"Hey, mister, I'm hungry as a horse and that smells sooo good? Do you think you could share?"

"Happy to. Lucked out with a biggie. So. He may not be as sweet as a younger one, but there's something for everyone if you are willing to suck the bones and nibble on the cheeks. I'll keep the tongue and eyeballs for me."

"Eew. Wish we had more beer."

"Well, I have water, and you can take a pull from my jug."

"Sounds like a plan, but first, ladies, shall we wash up before ...and after... we eat?"

"We shall."

They untangled themselves. Jacquie undid her bikini bottom. Sherry did too. Lannie stripped off her suit.

Screaming and laughing they charged toward the water. Chased each other through the moonlit surf. The Old Fisherman had rarely seen a more beautiful sight. Lithe legs and plump butts and bouncing breasts and tight nipples and dark triangles and pretty feet and shining eyes and sexy mouths.

After a time they came toward him, arm in arm, grabbed pareos and wraps and seated themselves in a semicircle around his fire.

He offered the weed he was smoking to Sherry and she took a hit and passed it to Jacquie who passed it to Lannie. The fire burned clean. The breeze from the land was warm. The light in the eyes of the hungry women was soft.