Prissy Krissy Pt. 08

The next Monday, usually my day off, would be July 4th. My manager told me I needed to work that day; it would be super busy, and she needed all hands on deck. But, in return, I was granted my first free-ish weekend of the summer. After I finished work on Thursday, I didn't need to go back till Sunday. I knew I needed to take advantage of the opportunity.

Staying around the house that weekend was a waste. For one thing, my parents would be there for most of it, which meant that Krissy and I couldn't participate in our usual activities. My folks were vaguely aware that I was seeing someone, though I don't think they'd figured out it was the goy next door. Regardless, I couldn't imagine they'd be too enthusiastic about me schtupping away in my bedroom while they were downstairs watching reruns of 60 Minutes.

Doing something local wasn't much of an option, either, as the pool and (to a lesser extent) the carnival had proven. Krissy and I needed to go someplace where we could truly enjoy each other, if you get my meaning. And I had the perfect place: the Jersey Shore.

"I don't know Jacob," Krissy said when I told her my plan, "That's a long drive and I need to be home on Sunday in time for church."

It was a Tuesday afternoon and the two of us were both laying on my bedroom floor, half naked and fully satiated from another epic session of stroking and sucking. The only difference between us and a double-murder scene, was we were covered in each other's cum rather than blood.

"I'll be sure we're back in time," I said, "No problem."

"What do I tell my parents?" Krissy asked. For a moment, I flashed back to our big fight. But I'd learned my lesson about ultimatums. Sure I'd 'won' the last time. But it didn't feel like a victory at the time, and I didn't feel great about my chances to repeat.

"Say you're going to the beach with your camp friend," I said, "The redheaded girl we met at the carnival."

"Abby?" Krissy said, "I guess I could go down the shore with Abby."

"She's not actually invited, you know," I said. Krissy rolled her eyes at me.

Now came the tough part. I knew Krissy wasn't going to like this, but I had to try. The opportunity was too good to let go of. I tried to ease her in slow.

"Sssoooo, I was thinking we would leave Friday morning," I said, "Spend the day down the shore, then drive back up Saturday morning."

"You mean like, stay overnight?" Krissy asked, jumping to the conclusion far too quickly "Like at a hotel?"

I could see the wheels were churning and I knew it wasn't good. I'd gone too far for sure. I started backpedaling as hard as I could.

"It was just an idea," I said, "A chance to spend time together the two of us. In private. Without worrying about parents or whatever. If you wanted to."

Krissy stared at me for a moment, like trying to dissect me with her eyes. But then her face formed a curious smile.

"That sounds like fun," Krissy said.

*

We met up at the crack of dawn, at the parking lot in front of the Blockbuster. Krissy tossed her bag in my trunk (a pink backpack with a rainbow unicorn on it), and we hit the road. At first, it was easy driving. Both of us were too tired to talk, so we listened to the radio and stared as the sun slowly climbed above the horizon.

But once we got on the Parkway, we hit the inevitable Jersey Shore traffic and stopped dead. We crawled forward, as the air conditioning in my poor Saturn strained to keep us comfortable. Even the music seemed to drag along.

With nothing else to do, I glanced over at my girlfriend. I was used to the usual Krissy uniform of jeans and a sweater. But, for the first time since I'd known her, the blonde woman was wearing a different outfit. She had on a kind of dress. It was black and somewhat sheer, with a zip that ran right up the center and a hem that stopped above Krissy's knees.

"It's a cover-up," Krissy said, noticing my gaze. "I have my suit on under it, so I don't have to change at the shore."

I nodded, smiling. Now that I knew to look I could see the straps of her bathing suit, an appropriately aqua one, underneath her outfit. Krissy had her hair back in a matching green headband. Because we'd be swimming, she was wearing her glasses instead of contacts. She looked like the world's sexiest nerd.

Looking at Krissy -- the thought of where we were headed, of our plans -- had me boiling with, um, let's call it anticipation. And we were sitting in traffic with nothing much to do but inch forward. And so, it occurred to me that I had a golden opportunity.

Cautiously, I snuck my fingers past the emergency brake lever and over to Krissy's side of the car. She was staring out the window, lost in her own thoughts. I played my digits over her bare arms, tickling at her sexy, blonde fur. Krissy glared at me, then looked away.

I moved my hand further. Down to her bare leg. Slowly so as not to startle. And when I sensed the moment was right, I dipped under her skirt.

"Jacob!" Krissy said. She gave me a shocked look.

I hadn't done that much, just sort of stroked at her center over the fabric of her bathing suit. Krissy shifted, trying to keep herself safe.

"Focus on the road," Krissy said.

"I am," I said. I went back to running my finger up and down her nylon-covered slit.

Krissy gave me that standard pleading look. The one that begged me to stop, while also encouraging me to keep going. It was her base plausible deniability expression: the one she liked to use when she didn't feel like she could say yes, but had no intention of saying no.

I pulled the gusset of Krissy's bottoms over and started to rub her bare, hairy pussy. Krissy gasped. Again, she tried to escape my fingers. But I had her pinned.

"Please don't," Krissy said, "Seriously."

"Why not?"

"It's embarrassing," Krissy said. She looked pointedly out the window. "We're in public."

"No one can see," I said. A lie, but still.

"It doesn't feel right," Krissy said.

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at her. I got more dedicated with my digits. Krissy gasped and squirmed. She snapped her legs around my hand.

"Jacob, please," Krissy said. Then her voice got very quiet. "I have to pee."

"OK," I said, "We'll pull over at the next rest area." But I didn't stop fingering her.

Krissy gave me a desperate look. Her eyes wide with worry. She kept glancing at my hand between her legs and at my face, like she couldn't decide what was more important to watch. Her mouth opened and shut like a fish on land.

Finally, it got to be too much, and she shoved my hand away.

"Please don't," Krissy said, "I feel all squiggly. Like I'm going to pee."

I didn't even look her way. I can't explain why I kept going. For some reason, Krissy's threat only encouraged me onward. We were mashed into the Parkway, barely even moving -- but I had us careening towards the precipice all the same. I don't say this to justify my behavior, or even explain it. More to acknowledge that, yes, I know I was taking things too far.

I put my fingers back where I wanted them. For all of Krissy's complaints, she felt sopping wet. I found her clit and started to rub it the way I knew she liked. Little circles round and round. Her face flushed.

Krissy grabbed my wrist and held it in place. She formed the most submissive face I'd ever seen. She didn't need to say the words.

"For someone who isn't enjoying this, you sure seem to be enjoying it," I said.

"It's embarrassing," Krissy said, "I don't want to wet myself."

"That sounds fun," I said, "We could start calling you Pissy Krissy."

Krissy let out an angry growl. I smirked back at her, teasing. But I didn't stop stroking her. Krissy held my hand in place, a futile protest. But she didn't push me away.

After a minute of me attacking her clit. Krissy's face distorted. Her nostrils flared and her lips curled in that strange, orgasmic sneer. Her blue eyes went wide.

"Oh," she said, "Oh my God."

Krissy dug her nails into my wrist. Her eyes rolled back. A short gasp escaped her lips. I felt something warm hit my hand. I looked down and saw Krissy's skirt darken with liquid. The acrid smell of her piss hit my nose, not unwelcome. A little yellow pool sloshed out onto the seat.

Krissy writhed and wriggled on my seat. She keened as the ecstasy overtook her. A hissing whine of miserable bliss. She finished with a little choking sob. Finally, her body let go of her and she fell slack.

Krissy's eyes fluttered. She looked down at herself; although I think she already knew what had happened. As soon as she saw it, her fears confirmed, Krissy's face went bright red. Her blue eyes hardened. She looked ready to hit the roof.

Before she could scream, I said, "That has to be the hottest, sexiest thing I've ever seen."

There was a pause. A moment. Where everything was about to go straight to hell. When I was sure that Krissy was about to leap out of the car and run for the hills, but not before stabbing me in the chest with my own car keys.

Instead, oddly, her beautiful face softened.

"I'm so ashamed," Krissy said, "I told you that was going to happen."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," I said, "I loved it."

"You're weird," Krissy said. She shook her head at me, disdainfully. But I noticed she was trying to hide a smile. She liked the idea that she'd turned me on, even if she didn't understand it.

I had wet wipes and paper towels in the back seat (too many drives with drunk friends had prepared me for potential accidents), so I cleaned off my urine-y hand and soaked up the mess from the cushions while Krissy did her best to wipe up her legs.

We drove along in silence for a while. I turned the radio up and cracked a window. Traffic eased and we were able to move forward at a more reasonable pace.

"It felt strange," Krissy said out of nowhere, "More intense, sort of. Doing it like that."

"Did you like it?" I asked.

Krissy refused to respond, but I knew that the answer was 'yes.'

*

We got to Point Pleasant and parked at a lot near the boardwalk. We gathered our things --towels, folding chairs, and a couple of beach bags -- and made our way onto the sand. Despite the traffic, it was still early, and the beach was nearly empty. The dark green waves roared and crashed, punctuated only by the lonely shrieks of a few seagulls. We picked a space in the middle of the dunes, where we wouldn't get caught up in the rising tide.

While I set up our chairs and spread out the towels, Krissy took off the rest of her cover-up, revealing an ocean-blue, one-piece suit. The cut was slightly less conservative than what she'd worn to the community pool, but it wasn't revealing. Compared to the outfits I saw along the brown, sandy coast, Krissy may as well have been in a habit.

But she stood out on the shoreline. This was Krissy -- golden hair blowing in the wind, curvy body stretching the material of her suit in all the right ways. As we sat out on the sand and the beach filled up with people, I saw multiple men (and not a few women) walk by and stare. I realized that most of them weren't even going into the water, they were just using an excuse to check out my girlfriend.

Eventually, we went into the ocean and jumped the waves. The water was icy, murky green, and heavy with the smell of salt. But we didn't care. It was a summer day, I was enjoying a rare break, and I was with Krissy.

As we bounced up and down with the current, I made a few grabs for my girlfriend. Krissy giggled, but she gave me some leeway, letting me grope at her breasts and bottom. She went for my dick a few times, as well. It was fun. Flirty and playful.

After a while, we got tired and went back to our spot to dry off. The beach had gotten busy, the boardwalk behind us a cacophony of manufactured noise. People were packed towel-to-towel all along the shore. Kids ran around, kicking sand. Nearby, someone had brought a boom box and they were blaring the afternoon Yankee game. A plane buzzed overhead, dragging a message about car insurance behind it.

Krissy glared at it all like it was a personal affront. "I hate people," she said, casually.

"I'm willing to put up with some of them," I said, looking at her pointedly.

She shook her head at me, but I could see a smile trying to sneak through.

When we were dry enough, Krissy put on her cover up (she'd packed an extra that was pee-free) and we headed up to the boardwalk for lunch. We found a place with a robotic, life-sized, singing gorilla and got pizza -- the typical Shore kind where it looks like they sliced off half the pie for you.

When we were done eating, Krissy announced that she needed a break from the beach. We packed up our things and headed to the car. Our hotel was a short drive away, a real stereotypical beach motel with shorebirds painted on the side, more parking spaces than places to sleep, and a generous sprinkling of sand in every corner.

Our room was fine. It wasn't the most immaculate place in the world, but that was to be expected. There was a thin, brown carpet. A couple of sad pieces of furniture. The bed was a queen, with an emaciated mattress and a yellow comforter. I wasn't going to bring a black light in there, but overall, it was nice enough for our purposes.

Krissy dropped her bag on the bed and immediately announced she wanted a shower. Despite our familiarity with each other's bodies, my girlfriend insisted on being demure and headed into the bathroom to get naked.

I heard the squeak of the water turning on. The jangle of a curtain being pulled closed. I stood and waited for my moment. I never even considered the alternative.

As soon as I was sure Krissy had started, I stripped out of my outfit and marched into the bathroom. It was already filled with steam. The green-ish curtains were closed.

Krissy squealed when I climbed in with her. But a moment later she had her arms wrapped around my shoulders. Her lips pressed to mine.

The hot water ran over us as our tongues wrestled around each other. My cock, stiff as I could ever remember, buried itself against Krissy's warm, fuzzy furrow. Even in the water, I could feel her special slipperiness.

Krissy moaned as we ground against each other. Till now, every moment we had taken together felt stolen. Sneaked away. Even in my house, completely alone, there was always the sense that we were on borrowed time. That someone might show up at any minute.

In the shower, for the first time, we were able to relax. To luxuriate in each other without any worry. The clock was still ticking. This wasn't forever. But these few moments were fully ours.

Eventually, we broke apart, panting. Krissy grabbed a bar of hotel soap. But when she started to suds herself, I stopped her. She let me take the little bar from her hands and I ran it up and around her body.

Again, this unlimited access was new. Krissy had never allowed me full access to her body. Not like this. For the first time I was allowed to touch, to trace, every part of her. To examine and prod at ever exciting bit.

Krissy might have resented me at the time for what I made her do in the car (frankly, I was still coming to terms with my own behavior), but I could see now that it had granted her a kind of freedom. I'd seen Krissy at her most vulnerable and had showed her nothing but support. It gave her a new confidence, I think.

I took my time soaping Krissy. I didn't just go for the good stuff. I appreciated her skinny shoulders. Her ruddy thighs. Adorably cute toes and lithe, feminine fingers. But yes, I also spent a tremendous amount of time hefting and squeezing her soap-slippery breasts.

And her butt. To quote my girlfriend, oh my God. Her ass was something else. Krissy had never let me near that part of her before, beyond random grabbing during other things. Now though, I was able to fully feel those firm, rounded cheeks. I even ran a slippery finger through her crack. Krissy gasped when I did it, then waved an admonishing finger in my face. But she let me continue to worship her.

The only part I left alone was her pussy. I wasn't sure soaping it would be safe, so I stayed away. I did the surface, but otherwise I didn't go inside. I didn't want to risk causing any problems.

Krissy was surprisingly patient with me, but eventually she told me it was time to move on.

"I need a little more time with your boobs," I told her, "We have to make sure they're extra clean."

Krissy rolled her eyes at me. "I want my turn," she said, almost whining. And, suddenly, I was very happy to give up the soap.

My aloof girlfriend, again, followed my lead. She cleaned my body with the same care, taking time to explore every bit of me. I've never seen myself as good looking, really. But I felt like a total stud under Krissy's attentions.

It wasn't only that she spent so much time on my body. It was the little sounds she made as she did it. Cute little coos and musical, sharp giggles. Krissy was having fun. I didn't understand it, but she seemed to enjoy my body as much I'd appreciated hers.

I could tell the parts she liked the most because she lingered on them. My broad shoulders and my hairy pecs. My thick calves and strong thighs. Krissy soaped my butt, of course. I was expecting that. She even dipped her finger in my crack, cackling as she did. She gave as good as she got.

But, of course, Krissy spent the most time on my prick. She soaped my cock up so good, it could have entered an operating room and performed aseptic surgery.

Krissy also spent a particular amount of time on my balls. Again, proving my sister wrong, the blonde woman was remarkably gentle as she cupped my sack. Feeling my testicles and gently rolling them.

The experience was completely amazing. It was total torture. Remember, I was already amped to 11 after the drive that morning. When Krissy was finished soaping me up, my dick was throbbing. My whole body was thrumming. I was aching with need so bad, I worried I was about to vibrate into another dimension entirely.

We searched each other for a moment. There was desire there, that was undeniable. But at the same time, there was something new. I want to call it appreciation. Though I know that's not exactly the right word. We enjoyed each other; admired our partner in a way we'd never taken the time to before.

Now that my dick was assuredly clean, Krissy got it all dirty again. She rinsed me off, dropped to her knees, and inhaled my cock. She made loud, lewd sucking noises as she worked my dick with abandon. When I was close, she sat back and stroked me off onto her face and tits. It was fantastic.

As I leaned back against the shower wall, my breath racing to recover from reaching my peak, I had a sudden inspiration. Krissy was standing under the flow of the shower, her body completely sodden. My seed slowly washed down her face and chest, dripping harmlessly to the drain.

I went down to my knees. Wrapped my arms around Krissy's waist. I held her close. Despite epic amounts of soap and the still-present scent of the sea air, I swore I could smell Krissy's golden pussy. I moved downward. Her pubic hair tickled at my cheek.

Some part of me knew it was now or never. In the shower, we were both as clean as we ever would be. I desperately wanted to take this chance. If Krissy shoved me away, so be it.

Gently, I nudged at Krissy's folds with my lips. The blonde girl gasped. Her hands went to the back of my head. I could practically hear the timer ticking down.

I lapped up the slit of her sex. For the first time, I tasted Krissy's true essence on my tongue, right from the source. She was sweet and tangy. Way less pungent than I'd come to expect with other women. I wanted to spend forever buried in that magical place. I knew I was already pushing my luck. But if I could work her up, get her off, she might let me return.