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She awoke to the sound of the sea. Consciousness crept in slowly like the tide, and she luxuriated in that perfect moment that exists between sleep and wakefulness. Her body felt vital and alive - all her muscles relaxed and all her senses heightened. For a long time she lay quite still, as if fearing that even the slightest movement could break the spell and evaporate her warm sense of comfort and wellbeing.

The bed beside her was empty, but her lover's shape was still imprinted on the tumbled sheets. He must have left early and been unwilling to disturb her. Smiling, she thought of his face, his kind eyes and sexy mouth. She felt a jolt deep in her loins as her mind threw up an image at random, of that mouth fastened to her breast, suckling hard whilst his tongue teased her nipple. A whole string of other pictures, feelings, and sounds flooded through her awareness, as if triggered by the first. The sound of her own breath, loud and gasping in her ears. The look of his eyes, screwed up in concentration as he came. The feeling of his sperm trickling between her thighs as he fell asleep beside her, his arm thrown across her body.

She enjoyed the memories for a few minutes, but gradually the need to pee became stronger than the desire to remain recumbent, and she got up and wandered into the bathroom, gathering up a robe from the floor as she went.

When she emerged, the seagulls were calling outside and she wandered out onto the balcony to look across the beach. The whole flock was way out over the water, chasing after a fishing boat whose wake sparkled brightly in the morning sun. The robe was wrapped loosely around her and she shivered slightly in the cool breeze blowing along the shore.

Returning inside, she grabbed a cool glass of orange juice from the fridge and went to sit down at her computer. Firing it up, she skipped quickly past the work applications she had so sincerely intended to spend time with over her vacation, and flipped instead to the folder containing her web browser. In seconds, the modem was screeching it's binary welcome down the line to her local access provider, then it all went quiet and she was on line. Calling up her bookmark sheet, she selected her favourite chat room, then entered her handle.

The screen blandly announced her presence:

Welcome Beachcomber!

A half dozen other messages, sent prior to her arrival, disappeared up the page. She scanned them quickly, learning that Hard8" was a fuckwitted wanker, Ron was feeling lonesome, and Shelley (f/23) was either having a real good time or else was in some very serious pain.

Smiling to herself, she reset the number of lines to 20, enabling to see more of the previous conversations, then typed her own message:

Beachcomber: Good morning party people! Are y'all early risers, or aintcha been to bed yet... to sleep, that is *Grin*

The replies came trickling back:

Hard8": Early riser? Beachcomber, honey, you know I'm a riser at ANY time - night or day! Like to PM me this morning?

Ron: *YAWN* Been up all night, Beachcomber - you m/f?

Shelley: (f/23) UUURGH! OH! Yeah! Yeah! NO! NONONONONO! ARRRGH! I'm CUMMING!

Checking the user list, she was disappointed to see that none of her other friends were there. Hard8" was OK, but his imagination was severely limited - almost as bad as Shelley (f/23) seemed to be. No doubt the two of them would get on well together - probably already were, which would explain Shelly's outpourings. Someone really ought to show the poor girl how to send PRIVATE messages to save her blushes. Of course, it was always possible she liked being watched. Beachcomber smiled at that thought. She typed again:

Beachcomber: Shelley - are you just masturbating for the rest of us to enjoy, or have you got some sneaky partner who hasn't bothered to show you how to PM?

Shelley replied quickly:

Private Message from Shelley (f/23): Just showing off a little... Uh Uh Uh HrrrNNNGPH! *giggle*

That about exhausted the possibilities for chat as far as Beachcomber was concerned. On impulse, she decided to E-mail John at work.

LOVER, she sent, after swithing to her mail server, GIVE IT ALL UP AND CUM HOME TO ME... I'M BORED. *KISS*

Before logging off completely, she flicked back to the chatroom. on the offchance that someone interesting had arrived. A new message intrigued her.

Welcome: Don Juan!

An interesting choice of name, she thought, and quickly typed:

Beachcomber: Anyone tilting at windmills out there?

The reply came:

Don Juan: Wrong Don Juan, I'm afraid, Beachcomber... *S* I was thinking more of 'Don Juan de Marcos'

The conversation continued rapidly.

Beachcomber: *Sly grin* In that case, have YOU ever really loved a woman?

Don Juan: *LOL* I haven't made 1502 yet... but I'm working on it! Are you m/f, Beachcomber?

Hard8": He's never REALLY loved a woman, Beachcomber, not up the ass -

you need ME for that!

Beachcomber: I'm all woman, honey... and in search of a little love right now. You want to swell your total? Or anything else that comes to mind? *Blows him a kiss*

Shelley (f/23) Take me, Don Juan! I'm spread wide open, waiting for you!

Beachcomber: *mildly* Shut up, Hard.

Don Juan: *Catches kiss and presses it to his lips. Swirls cape.*

Beachcomber, it would be an honour to make love with you... *Dark eyes smouldering*

Hard8": *Meekly* Yes, Beach. Whatever you say. Shutting up right now.

You won't hear another peep out of me. No, not even a little one!*LOL*

Don Juan: Shelley, my appologies, but it would be an insult to the gorgeous Beachcomber if I were to give her any less than my full attention.... Beachcomber, tell me how you are looking tonight...

Beachcomber: I'm not sure about the 'honour', DJ - but I certainly hope it will be a PLEASURE! *S*

As the last message from Don Juan appeared, Beachcomber paused to consider... what should she tell him? It was fun sometimes to beguile them with impossible fantasies, but this guy seemed more genuine than most and unlikely to be impressed by a lie. And besides, it was even more fun to think of him fantasising over HER! She decided to tell him the truth.

Beachcomber: Well... I'm about 5'6" tall, with long, curly dark hair.

I'm 31 years old with luscious blue eyes and a build that has been described (recently!) as 'shapely'. I'm dressed in a soft white bathrobe, tied with a long belt...and underneath - well, you'll have to find that out for yourself... PS I'm a little dishevelled right now, having only just crawled out of bed!

Shelley (f/23) *Humph* Suit yourself, Don 'daftass' Juan - you don know what your missing. Wanna play, hard8? PM me.

The line was silent for a while as Hard8" and Shelley (f/23) slipped into PM land. Beachcomber updated several times, wondering if her new lover had left her, before his next message arrived.

Don Juan Beachcomber, your face and body delight me *shiver* I tremble in anticipation of our love. I am 23 years old, but I hope you will not let this discourage you... I adore older women - they are so sensual and alive.

I am 5'11", slim with a youthful physique. I have dark hair and smouldering eyes. I am dressed in belted black trousers, a black shirt and black calf boots. I also wear a cape.... guess what? Black.

*Takes your hand and kisses your fingers* Let me share pleasure with you...

She typed quickly:

Beachcomber: *Shivers in response, then pulls you to your feet* *Deep kiss, running hands over your chest* Undress me!

Don Juan: Loosening your belt, I open your bathrobe, pulling it down from your shoulders, then leaning forward to kiss the exposed flesh.

Then I stand back to admire you... what do I see?

Beachcomber: My creamy white breasts are pushed forward within a midnight blue bra, which complements my eyes. A matching pair of knickers hide my secret flesh. All of my skin is smooth and soft...

there is a sense of yielding ripeness to my body. I use the space you have made between us to reach out and unfasten your shirt...

Don Juan: As you work my buttons, I raise my hands to your breasts, feeling them and testing their weight. The smooth silky material of your bra feels good under my fingers, and I can just discern the texture of your nipples as they begin respond to my touch. As you reach the last button, I shrug out of the shirt and reach behind to unclip you

Beachcomber: *soft moan* MMmm, yes... free my breasts. I want you to suck on them, close your lips around them and make me feel good.

Don Juan: Nuzzling and kissing your neck, I remove your bra completely, letting it fall to the floor by your robe. My hands slip round to hold your full, rounded breasts once more, and my tongue dances downwards to circle your left nipple - teasing, coming close, but never quite making contact.

This was starting to sound good. Easing her robe open, the Beachcomber began to caress her own breast, her hand imitating the actions Don Juan described. With the other hand, she typed:

Beachcomber: Holding your head to my breast with one hand, I try to guide your mouth to my nipple - at the same time, my other hand reaches down and unfastens your belt. I start to unzip you.

Don Juan: I shift my hips back to assist you, and my shaft springs free. It feels warm and alive and throbs slightly in your hand. My mouth moves across to finally engulf your nipple, my soft tongue caressing your skin as I begin to suckle gently.

Beachcomber: That feels NICE... My hand moves on your shaft, holding you firmly but softly. My fingers curl underneath to touch your balls.

Don Juan: *Groans* MMmm.. *Backs off* Let me get rid of these...

*drops pants and steps out of them, leaving boots behind. Cape rustles to the floor* I take your hand and lead you to my bed...

Beachcomber: I come willingly, following close behind you, but when we get there, I skip ahead and lean forward across the bed, presenting you with my silk-clad behind.

Don Juan: Standing close behind you, I press my hardness into you through the silk of your panties. I am exited now, and a little moisture oozes from me, increasing the size of the wet patch that is already there...

Smiling to herself, the Beachcomber allowed her hand to drift down from her breast, to press into the gusset of her panties, imagining the feel of this handsome, enigmatic stranger's knob pressing there instead. He was right -

there was a wet patch, and she moaned, spreading her legs a little to touch herself more easily. As she typed her next message, she was unaware of the door opening downstairs.

Beachcomber: MMMmm... I wriggle my ass backward, making your cock butt against my pussy through the single layer of damp silk that separates us... 'Take them off,' I gasp.

Don Juan: I lean forward to kiss your neck, grinding my hips hard against you from behind. Then I hook my fingers into the waistband of your knickers, and lean back once more as I draw them slowly past your hips and thighs before letting them drop to the floor...

Shifting her hips, the Beachcomber pushed the gusset of her knickers aside, in too much of a hurry to bother removing them. Her questing fingers stroked along her wet opening, then settled on the hood of her clit, making her shiver with the tiniest of melting climaxes. Outside of her awareness, the door behind her opened.

Beachcomber: I lean even further forward, spreading my legs to let you see the secrets you have uncovered. My labia are thick, swollen with the blood that is rushing through them, and my clitoris pops out from under its hood of its own accord. I am glistening with moisture, and the aroma of my sex wafts up to fill your nostrils.

Don Juan: I stand behind you a moment, placing my hands on your buttocks and pulling them gently apart, the better to admire the sight with which you gift me... I inhale deeply - the smell of you is a heady drug which intoxicates me. Then I kneel, slowly, reverently, and place my tongue precisely on your centre of pleasure.

A sudden movement behind her brought the Beachcomber back to her senses.

John was there. She turned just in time to see his pants join his shirt on the floor, then, with a smile he ducked beneath the workstation. Two hands now free, she felt his tongue run the length of her slit as she typed her response.

Beachcomber: MMMmmm! Oh! I wriggle my ass once more, pressing back into your face. That feels SO good! Stroke my bum while you lick me.

But not for too long - I don't know how much longer I can wait to feel you inside me.

John's tongue moved in her pussy with vigorous excitement, lapping up the juices that were now flowing freely from her. He even turned his head to kiss her thighs and lick the juices from them. She moaned, waiting eagerly for Don Juan's response.

Don Juan: I taste you, kissing all around your sweet entrance, delighting in your flavour, before pushing my tongue deep inside you.

I withdraw it slowly, then push back in rhythmically, bringing one finger up at the same time to stroke your clit. My touch is featherlight and teasing - too good to want me to stop, but never quite enough to make you come.

The thought aroused her further, and she bucked her hips forward onto John's tongue, sneaking one hand down at the same time to rub furiously at her clit. The other continued her conversation.

Beachcomber: I reach back and take hold of your head, pulling you up by your hair until you are leaning right over me. My other hand slides between my legs, grabs your prick and guides your cock head to my pussy. I rub it a couple of times across the gaping entrance, then slide you in and wait for your response.

Don Juan: Taking hold of your hips, I pull you back onto me as I feed my whole length into you in one slow, smooth stroke. I grind my hips against you, moving them in a deliciously erotic circle. Then I withdraw and start to pump in earnest... I would prefer to be restrained and sensual, but I'm too excited now, and I thrust deep and hard.

John's tongue had withdrawn now and he was busy feeding as many fingers into her as would fit. Once inside, he curled them up, crossing and uncrossing them to expand the soft walls of her pussy in directions she wouldn't have believed possible. She pressed her thighs in hard against his head as another climax shook her. She managed one last message before losing control completely.

Beachcomber: Oh yes, that's just what I need. OOOOH! I'm so wet for you, I NEED YOU. God, that's good - fill me up hard and deep I - I -


With that, she stood, knocking her chair out of the way, and drew John up from under the workstation, kissed him deeply, then manouevered him behind her as she placed both hands on the workstation and lent forward towards the screen. Don Juan's last message appeared even as John's nimble fingers spread her wide open before nudging his thick cockhead into her.

Don Juan: Feeling your muscles clench around me, I lean forward and squueze your breasts as you come, twirling the nipples between thumb and fore finger. I can feel my own passion rising as you buck and writhe on my cock. A few more strokes is all it takes to send streaming ribbons of cum flying up inside you... I groan out loud and call your name, pump a few more times, then collapse, resting my weight on top of you...

As she read it, and imagined the feel of her cyber-lover's body on top of her own, the pressure of John's cock moving inside her made her insides seem to churn and a sublime, melting climax engulfed her. Her knees buckled and she was supported only by her arms, and by John's hands on her hips.

Her internal muscles flexed wildly and she felt the entrance to her womb being butted by the force of John's stroke, and as he came, she was sure she could feel those streaming ribbons of cum shooting up inside her.

'Oh god,' she murmured, her face and chest flushed a bright strawberry pink, 'that was SOOoo good... Oh God, oh Don!'


A thousand miles away, on a different continent, an unseen observer of their cyber-passion was logging off. Shelley (f/23) had had a long night.

He stretched languidly, trying to ease the discomfort of several hours' bad posture with a single gesture. It didn't work - he was really much too tall for the low stall that perched in front of his workstation, and for the umpteenth time he reminded himself to get a decent chair from somewhere.

Glancing about the room, he spied a half eaten slice of pizza still in the box and ate it cold, with relish. Then he went to bed, just as the sun crept in through the window.



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