Portraits at the Beach

"I need to lay flat to recover," she panted.

Reaching out for her handbag she dug in and said, "Here, a present for a good boy. A very good boy."

It was a tube of lube.

"Use plenty as it's been out of action for a few months."

The ass fuck was a memorable one for them both.

As Peter was about to shoot his load she told him to withdraw, and rolling on to her back began frigging herself.

"Shoot it on to my belly so I can see the ejaculation."

Ivy had assumed that smaller cocks equated to smaller releases of semen. Peter assumed she might think like that so began tossing off his six and a half inches smoothly and with great expectations.

Peter grunted, and Ivy lifted her head. A small string landed on her belly, then he fired another right on to her tits. The next one landed on to her nose and hair and she saw another coming and closed her eyes as they were splattered. Another spurt just reached her breast and another landed on her belly.

Dropping her head back to the blanket, Ivy said: "Wow I've just witnesses Fourth of July!

They slept in the shade not cuddling as the day was hot, linking fingers instead, fingers smelly of cunt juices and cum.

Ivy was glad she'd come to New Zealand on an anthropology study: she'd found that at one perfect example of the population with bloodlines stretching back to the original indigenous race who'd assimilated into modern culture perfectly. She had the basis for her final submission to her professor and still had another eight days before flying home to complete her research on a delightful East Coast beach.

She's supplemented that by spending afternoons with the ladies up on the clifftop, sharing their knowledge and experiences with her.

Peter had conferred a Maori name on her – Reka, meaning sweet. With that name and Rangi's awareness that Reka was assisting Peter to exit his long period grieving, Rangi cooperatively assist her grandson's benefactor.

Dropping her hand to gently massage stiffness back into Peter's powerful appendage, Ivy promised herself that she would return to New Zealand as soon as she graduated.

She planned to research the whole structure of the rise and fall of this tiny East Coast community and use it towards her doctorate.

Peter stirred and asked, "Ready to go again?"

Ivy giggled, and replied, "What, for a swim."

A hand clamped on to her left breast, causing her to shriek, "I'm ready!"

Ten metres away a group of elderly women in a mini bus, with Rangi in the passenger seat beside the driver, all bent forward with interest.

"Pass the binoculars, Rangi," called her cousin Ngaio.

"Get your own, he-he-he," laughed Rangi, her binoculars fixed on the couple as her grandson's penis began disappearing into the mouth of the lovely American girl.

"I'll give you five bucks for a sixty-second use of the binoculars," said Ngaio.

Rangi sighed. "Okay, another other takers?"

"Yes," came the calls.

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