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The Inga Chroncles Ch. 01

By: christo



Author's note: Sorry I vanished for 2 years, I've been wandering through Tibet. Or something. These stories are part of a flirtatious exchange between myself and another writer, maybe this will help me get back in the groove. I hope you enjoy!

*****

The sun was high and hot in the sky and Inga happily wriggled her toes in the sand. Her friends were out there broiling in the heat, walking up and down the beach looking for guys, but Inga sat in the shade of her umbrella and let the boys come to her. At least a dozen had paused to check her out as they walked past, their attention arrested by her blonde hair and fair skin and her tremendous double-Ds, which swelled against the thin fabric of her swimsuit and revealed a vertingous stripe of cleavage. A deeply tanned teenage boy even showed half a boner through his trunks as he watched her lean forward for the suntan oil. Poor baby, Inga thought to herself, and wondered if maybe he'd like to smooth the oil on her skin. No, he was too young, too excited. He'd lose his load in his pants if she so much as spoke to him.

Oh, she was feeling very full of herself today, wasn't she! She and four of her friends had come to the shore for a long girls-only weekend, five hungry femmes-fatale on the prowl. They'd stopped at a drug store before leaving and giggled as they bought a variety of condoms and lubes and oils, confident that by the time the weekend was over they find use for them.

And Inga was hungry, hungry for a man, a man she could play with and tease and torture until he begged for it. Men kept looking at her, and she looked back, and it was always the men who looked away first. They sensed that they were the prey, and none approached her. When the time came, she'd make the first move. And second, and the third, until the poor guy was writhing under her touch and willing to do whatever in the world she wanted.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was cool in the shade but her pussy was warm and she couldn't help crossing and re-crossing her legs. She thought about taking a dip in the ocean, but she was enjoying this sensation, of being just on the edge of acting out on her impulses. She could wander into the surf, swim up to some man, let her hands wander beneath the waves and feel his penis rise to her touch. She was going to have sex tonight, she knew she could fuck any man she wanted just by going up to him and touching him, speaking his name. He'd be able to smell the lust on her, and whoever he was, he wouldn't be able to resist.

A man came into her field of vision, and she kept her eyes on him. She'd seem him before, sitting in a group just a few yards away. Tall, broad-shouldered, his skin glistening from the surf. He ran his fingers through his slick brown hair and grinned. He had a cute smile, and as she watched him walk over to his friends he said something and they all laughed. So he had a sense of humor...she liked that. She liked that very much.

He toweled off and took a seat that faced her at an angle. He picked up a book, dug his toes into the sand, and started reading. Inga watched him, watched the calm expression on his face as he read, and she felt a sudden urge to learn what his face was like when he wasn't so calm. Like when he was ejaculating all over her breasts as she furiously masturbated him with oil-slick hands...

She wanted him. She wanted him and she would have him. She made up her mind on the spot. She would have him in her hands, in her mouth, in her pussy, and once she had him totally under her spell she would indulge herself and make him do anything and everything she wanted. 

She stared at him from behind her sunglasses. His head was tilted down...but she had the strange feeling that he was staring back at her. She couldn't see his eyes, but as she watched she noticed that he wasn't turning the pages of his book. Was he staring at her? What a naughty boy. Very naughty. Looking at her like that. Maybe when she got him alone she'd strip him and move behind him and jack him off from the rear, denying him the sight of her luscious body as her fingers moved up and down his cock...and another of her fingers plunged in and out of his anus. That would teach him to behave...

She felt an overwhelming need to touch herself. Her nipples tightened beneath her suit. She had to do something, right now. But he wasn't alone--a half-dozen of his friends, both men and women, were lounging around next to him. And a shadow fell next to her and she looked up to find her friends had returned. 

"Lots of action around here, Inga, lots of action," one of them crowed. "We're gonna walk up that way, wanna come see all the hotties?"

Inga didn't want to see a hottie--she wanted to fuck a hottie. She had to be touched, or touch herself, right now. "I think I'll just stay here and let the boys find me," she said. And then she added, "I think I need to visit the little girl's room too. Maybe I'll wander up that way and bump into you on the way back."

They said their goodbyes and walked away. Inga stood, adjusted the straining elastic of her bathing suit top, and reached in her bag for a cigarette. Normally she liked one AFTER sex, but maybe she'd have another one after she walked down the beach to the rest-rooms and diddled herself to orgasm. She couldn't stand it anymore. She had to come.

She lit her cigarette and looked at the man sitting and reading. She was convinced he was staring at her, even as he seemed engrossed in his book. She leaned over, giving him a great view of her breasts. No reaction. She tossed her lighter in her bag, turned slowly, and headed down the beach to the restrooms.

She blew a plume of smoke into the air and sighed. She wanted sex, and this would be a poor substitute. But without this release she was liable to attack some poor boy and leave him a quivering wreck smeared with his own semen. Maybe two boys. Maybe three. Mmm, three at the same time, yes, that might be enough to satisfy her, one in her pussy, one in her mouth, one in her ass, three hard cocks shivering and straining as she made each of them capitulate...

"Excuse me, are you headed for the rest rooms?" a man's voice asked.

Inga whirled so quickly she nearly fell down. The man who had been reading was standing next to her. He was a bit taller than her, and she liked that. She liked his strong legs, his full lips. She liked the way he was looking at her.

"I was, yes," she admitted.

He shook his head. "That's much too far. The house we rented is just of the beach. Come with me."

He took her by the hand and led her toward the wooden steps leading off the beach. He didn't ask her if she wanted to use the bathroom in his house. He didn't offer. He just took her hand and led her as if she was on a leash. And here she was, obediently following him. Her legs felt weak. Her pussy was on fire. 

He didn't say anything as they walked, nor did she. She took a few nervous puffs on her cigarette and noticed that he watched her as she smoked, as if he liked watching her. She tossed the butt in a trash can and he gently helped her up the steps. Their house was indeed the first one right off the beach, a chalet-style place with a huge peaked roof and a wide deck extending from the second floor. 

What was he going to do with her? Take her inside and fuck her? Oh, that would be glorious, exactly what she wanted. Just the thought of him plowing her while lying on cool white sheets nearly made her faint. Five minutes before she'd been thinking about how easy it would be to lure some silly man into her web. Now some man she didn't know was leading her by the hand into...what? She didn't care. She was under a spell and she was powerless to resist him.

There was a wooden stall at the rear of the house and the man led her there. "I'm sorry, before you go in you'll have to wash the sand off."

"That's fine," she rasped, her throat dry with anticipation. He unlatched the door and held it open. She walked inside...

And he walked in behind her. Closing and latching the door tight.

The stall was big enough for one person to shower comfortably. For two people, especially two tall people, it was a tight fit. She was facing away from him, toward the shower head, and he reached around her to turn on the spray. He pressed close against her as he twisted the lever and his chest pressed against her back. She leaned her head back and let the water cascade across her face. 

He reached up and smoothed her hair out of her eyes. "You're covered in sand," he said, his voice impossibly calm, and his hands rose to her shoulders then moved down the length of her arms. She was powerless now, she couldn't move, but she didn't need to because the man could apparently read her mind. She wanted him to strip off her swimsuit, to free her breasts, and in that instant he slipped fingers under the straps and pushed them off her shoulders. He eased them down her arms and her straining breasts bounced free, settling into his warm, waiting palms.

"You have sand all over you," he said again, and Inga wiggled her hips as he gently tugged her swimsuit down around her ankles. He went down on her knees and help her step out of her suit, and as he rose to his feet Inga felt his tongue touch her skin at the back of her thigh and trace a line up her buttocks, to the small of her back, ending at the nape of her neck.

"Oh my God," Inga moaned. She tried to turn around to kiss him and thrust her hands into his groin, but he blocked her with his chest and forced her to face away from her again. He was still wearing his trunks and the fact that she couldn't see and touch his penis drove her half-mad. "Hand me that bottle," he said softly, and Inga reached out with trembling hands for a bottle of clear pink body wash. "Oh my God," she moaned again as he cracked open the bottle, tipped it over her breasts, and squeezed out a huge amount of the viscous, fragrant liquid. 

He set the bottle down and used both hands to work it into a sweet-smelling froth that covered her breasts and shoulders. Inga spread her legs wide and braced herself against the walls of the stall as his strong, confident hands roamed all over her body. He didn't miss an inch--he caressed her shoulders, her neck, her thighs, her stomach, and then he went down on his knees against and sudsed her calves and ankles. 

He stood up behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see him pulling the cord of his trunks and quickly pulling them down. He was wonderously erect, his penis not especially long but quite thick and capped with a beautiful, detached mushroom at the head. Inga spread her legs wide, knowing that he was finally going to impale her with that gorgeous cock and she'd come five seconds later.

He didn't mount her. Instead he poured more of the body wash on his hands and turned his full, loving attention on her breasts. "Oh my God," Inga moaned again, wishing she could think of something else to say but nothing else seemed appropriate. His chin rested on her shoulder and he leaned forward and gently kissed her earlobe. He kissed and nibbled at her as his slippery fingers tenderly caressed her erect nipples. 

"You were teasing me down at the beach, weren't you?" he whispered into her ear.

"Yes!"

"Teasing me. Flashing these gorgeous tits at me. Making me want to touch them. Need to touch them. Weren't you?"

"Yes..."

His hands cupped her breasts and his fingers went wild over her nipples, tweaking and stroking them until Inga was half-crazed with need. There was a small bench against the side wall and Inga rested her left leg on it, opening herself to him. 

"You can fuck me if you want," she said.

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, I know that."

She tried to twist away from him but he was stronger than her and slippery as she was he held her fast. "Please fuck me," she moaned. "I want you to fuck me."

"I know you want me to fuck you. I knew you wanted to be fucked down at the beach. That's why I brought you here."

"To fuck me?" Inga said hopefully.

"No. To do this."

His lips moved from her earlobe to her neck, and his right hand slowly, slowly, slowly moved from her breast to her stomach. "Oh yes, oh yes," she whimpered as his fingers descended to her screaming pussy. And then, oh God, his foamy fingers touched her vagina. She pushed her hips forward as he let his fingers explore her. He didn't shove them inside her--instead he let them run up and down her furrow, moistening them with her juices before they slid up to fondle the burning rosebud of her clitoris.

His fingers moved in slow circles around her clit, and just like that she was close to orgasm. She desperately reached back and tried to grab his cock, but he pressed himself against her buttocks and denied her the pleasure of fondling him. He turned her away from the spray and crowded her even more, forcing her into the corner and effectively pinning her against the wall.

All the while he caressed her breasts and her pussy. "Please fuck me," she begged.

"No." he said, so terribly calm.

"Please," she cried, and there were actually tears in her eyes now.

"No." He released her breasts, grabbed the body wash, and Inga heard a loud SPLOOOGE behind her. He kept diddling her as he soaped her back and her ass, to which he now paid special attention. 

"Don't you want to fuck me?" she panted.

"Of course I do," he said--and pressed his erection against the small of her back as proof."

"Oh my God," Inga said--again, before she moaned, "Then do it, put your cock inside me, please."

He said nothing for a few seconds, seconds he spent dancing his fingertips around her buttocks, his teasing fingers growing closer and closer to her tender opening. "What's your name?" he asked.

She didn't want to tell him. She was so out of control she was afraid that if he knew her name she'd be his slave forever. "Anna," she lied.

His index finger slowly, but insistenly, penetrated her ass. She moaned, squiremed, writhed, but he held her tight and wouldn't be denied. A finger of his right hand suddenly slipped inside her pussy and Inga started losing control. "Your name isn't Anna. That's a lie. I heard your friend say your name while you were teasing me on the beach. Teasing me with those beautiful breasts. I could see you staring at me. Thinking you were teasing me." He started fingering her ass and her pussy. "Tell me your name." 

"Inga!" she moaned.

"Do you want to come, Inga?" he asked.

"I want you to fuck me!"

He forced his finger deep inside her ass. "Do you want to come?"

"Yes!!" she sobbed. "But I want you to fuck me first!"

He pressed himself against the small of her back, pulled his finger out of her pussy, and starting stroking her clitoris. "If I fuck you now," he said, "what will I have to look forward to the rest of the weekend?"

Her orgasm overwhelmed Inga. She didn't moan--she screamed. SCREAMED, so loud she thought her friends would be able to hear her down at the beach. His touch was so soft but so SURE, he kept giving her pleasure until she was gasping and trembling and nearly nauseous from the exertion. And when she was done, he carefully removed his fingers from her distended orifices, and gently turned her into the spray. She was covered in sweat, and once again he lathered her with the body wash, kissing her neck as he soaped her up.

It was a good two minutes before Inga finally had her wits about her, the echoes of her climax still thrummed inside her until that point. But when her pussy was still she slowly turned around, her hands reaching down for his penis.

But he'd already stepped away and pulled up his trunks. "I'm sorry, I should get back to my friends," he said. "I'll leave the door open, so once you're dressed feel free to use the bathroom."

And just like that, he was gone. 

She pulled on her suit, walked into the house (which was very nice and probably slept 12 comfortably) and sat down on the toilet. She really didn't have to go. She just needed to sit down for a few minutes. Once she felt ready, she got up, left the house, and walked back to her chair on the beach.

He was sitting there as if nothing had happened. She did the same, pulling a cigarette out of her pack and touching it with her lighter. Was he staring at her. Yes, she felt in tune with him now. He was watching her smoke, watching her body. Wondering when he'd be ready to have sex with her.

She took a contented drag and decided she'd have to find a way to, ah, seize the initiative. Her friends came back a few minutes later. "Hey, there a bar down the way with a big outdoor deck, apparently it's the biggest party in town. That's our plan for the night."

"Sounds good," Inga said, loud enough for him to hear. And the corner of his lips curled just a bit, and that little smile told Inga that he wasn't quite in complete control of the situation. And Inga had a few tricks up her sleeve. She dragged on her cigarette, knowing thast she'd have some time to think before deciding which one to spring on him tonight. 

The Inga Chroncles Ch. 02



Inga and her friends showed up at the club around 10PM, when the party was already in full swing. They'd taken extra time getting ready, their newly-tanned skin exposed by their sexiest outfits. Inga was wearing a black top that revealed the cool valley formed by her magnifient breasts. Eye contact might be a problem tonight, but getting attention from the boys wouldn't.

The club had a big dance floor inside, but most of the action was outside on the enormous wooden deck that projected out onto the beach. They went to the bar out on the deck and tried to buy a drink, but a quartet of relatively good-looking guys saw them walk up and insisted on buying the first round. Each of them took turns looking at Inga, and then her breasts, and in time one of them separated himself and started putting the moves on her.

Moves Inga found she wasn't much interested in. He was cute, a few years younger than her...but her body still hummed from the orgasm she'd had in that shower stall that afternoon. She was hungry to see him again, to put her hands on him, and her mouth. She felt a bit ashamed at how easily he'd taken control of her and done whatever he wanted to her body. She wanted to show him that she could wrap him around her little finger, just with a touch. And a lick. 

The guy she was talking to touched her forearm and eased her into a chair, and just his touch made her pussy quiver. She was practically in heat, and she resigned herself to the fact that if her mystery man didn't show she would be fucking the brains out of this barely acceptable speciman before the night was done. She needed sex. She needed to fuck. She needed to be fucked. 

And then, from across the room, she saw him walk in. He was with a dozen of his friends, guys and girls mixed together, and she nearly fell off her stool. He wore a pale blue Polo shirt that made his eyes leap out, and under her brassiere her nipples thickened until they ached and pressed against the fabric. 

He looked over the room, let his eyes move from right to left...and when he saw her, his eyes locked on hers and stayed there. He didn't smile, or show any sign of recognition. But HOW he looked at her. Those blue eyes burned into hers and now her pussy was warm and humid and the man who was chattering away next to her was completely forgotten. The mere idea of this joker's penis slipping inside her was absurd. There was only one man who could have her tonight.

And he was on the other side of the bar. Inga kept up her end of the conversation, talking to the other guys and her friends, while her attention was completely fixed on the group across the way. From time to time the object of her desire would look over at her, but for the most part he talked and laughed with his friends. She wondered if he'd told them what happened that afternoon. For some reason, she doubted it. That was something that was just between the two of them. And that made her want him all the more.

She excused herself and went to the ladies room. She needed a moment alone. The bathrooms were big and wide and she had a mirror all to herself. She reapplied her dark red lipstick, fluffed her hair, and looked herself over. She looked good. She looked great. The drink she'd had gave her a boost of confidence. No, she wouldn't walk up to him. She'd trap him. She'd lure him. She'd make him quiver and shake just the way she'd quivered and shook that afternoon. 

As she walked out the door Inga saw that the men's room was down the hall from the ladies room, and in between there was an dark, empty dining room. During the day the club probably did a brisk business serving lunch to hungry beachcombers, but now it was quiet and deserted. An idea formed, and Inga became so excited she nearly had to touch herself. 

She returned to her stool, and saw across the bar that her target was talking to a slender young woman with dark brown hair. She was very pretty, wearing a pale green top with thin straps, and he seemed quite taken with her, looking at her with considerable interest and laughing loudly and often. Jealousy flared inside her and Inga thought about walking over and flinging her drink in his face.

But then his eyes lifted, and he looked right at her, and his eyes stayed with hers for a long time, before returning to his performance with the girl. Inga had to have him. And she had to have him now. 

Every minute she looked over at him. And then, finally, twenty minutes later he broke away from his group and headed for the rest rooms. Inga hastily excused herself and headed that way herself, her drink in hand. She walked so quickly that she nearly caught up to him as he turned the corner and entered the men's room.

She went into the darkened dining room and quietly pulled out a chair and set it against the wall. The table would give them a little bit of privacy, and she set her drink on it and purse on it. She waited...and then a devilish thought popped into her mind. She pulled out her lipstick and carefully reapplied it. And then she waited. 

There was a mirrored sign on the far wall so Inga could see he was the one coming down the hall. When he was just about to pass the dining room Inga stepped out, grabbed both his wrists, and dragged him into the darkness. "Hey!" he said--and that sign of weakness, of confusion, was more intoxicating to Inga than anything she'd drank that night. She was nearly as tall as him and kept him off balance and she pulled him along and then pushed him into the chair.

"Remember me?" Inga asked, going down on her knees and snuggling between his legs. And before he could answer, she said, "I'm wearing a lot of lipstick. Dark red lipstick. You have a choice. I can either leave lip prints all over your clean khaki shorts...or all over your cock. It's up to you."

He hesitated. Inga said, "How are you going to explain to your friends how you got dark red lipstick all over the fly of your shorts? Do you think that cute little girl you're talking to is going home with you with my lipstick smeared all over your crotch?"

She let her fingertips slip under his shorts, and he arched his hips. "No no, you don't get to move. If you move, I might make your shorts messy. Hurry now, either pull it out or I'm going to be very kissy-kissy all over your lap."

He looked confused, discombobulated...and excited. He reached down, unbuttoned his shorts, and unzipped them. He got them down a few inches before Inga said, "No, that's far enough." He wore clean white boxers and she reached up and gently pulled his penis through the fly. 

He was throbbing, the tip of his cock already slick and shiny. She used her fingers to pull the skin tight at the base and she ran her tongue over the satiny tip of his erection. "Oh. My. God." he said. 

"You have to be quiet," Inga whispered.

"Yes."

"You have to stay perfectly still. Don't move. Don't thrust. Or I'll might slip and kiss your khakis."

"Yes."

Inga put him into her mouth and it was glorious. He was so hard, so impossibly hard for her. She formed a ring around the base of his cock with her fist and bobbed her head up and down his length. His breathing was deep and ragged, and she knew he wanted to buck and thrust into her mouth, but he had to just sit there and take it, take the luscious abuse her mouth and tongue were dealing to his organ.

His head lolled back. He was struggling for control. The dining room was far enough away that the noise from the club was deadened, and in the dark it seemed like the wet sounds of her lips and tongue and sucking mouth were magnified. "Mmm," she growled, and he shivered from head to toe. Inga knew she could really torture him, she could let his cock slip free from her lips and say that they'd finish the next time he had to use the rest room. But with him in her mouth she knew she HAD to make him come. She had to feel him lose control and pour himself down her throat. She wanted to hear him whimper.

And he was whimpering now. "Are you going to come?" she asked. He just nodded. "Did you want this when you saw me here, did you want me sucking your cock?" He nodded. "You thought you'd just snap your fingers and I'd suck your cock when you wanted, didn't you?" He nodded. She put him back in her mouth, let her tongue flutter along the head before giving him several crown-to-base deep throats. He sighed, trembled, and she knew his orgasm was hers for the taking. "I think you underestimated me," Inga said.

And then she went wild on his cock, head bobbing up and down, her fingers stroking him, her tongue sliding all over the head. He couldn't help himself, he jerked a bit forward as the first gout of semen spurted from the tip of his penis. He hardened even more as her lips closed around the head and he ejaculated again and again and again. Inga's eyes popped wide and she looked up at his angelic face as he quietly sighed and cooed because of the pleasure she was giving him. She swallowed him and, at last, he was still. 

She pulled her mouth away, swallowed again, and tucked his spent penis inside his boxers. And then, after she smoothed the fly closed, she leanded down and planted a long, sticky kiss on his white boxers. "Hey," he said quietly, and Inga leaned back and smiled. "Something to remember me by," she said. A perfect red lip print was left behind, right where his exhausted cock now slumbered. She stood, took a long sip from her drink, and reached in her purse for a cigarette. "Run along to your friends now," she said. "Good luck with your little friend."

He stood, buttoned and zipped his shorts, and arched his back. Inga lit her cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling as he wordlessly walked past. He got the hall, turned, and said quietly, "I hope you haven't underestimated me. I also hope you don't think this is over."

And then he said, "I'll see you tonight," before walking down the hall. 

Inga smoked her cigarette, embarassed that her hands were shaking. He would see her tonight. How? When? What was he up to? What would he do? She just hoped it involved the two of them naked, and that magnificent penis sliding in and out of her pussy. Her hands still shook as she stubbed out her cigarette, but then she took another sip of her drink and remembered the soft cries she'd extracted from him during her oral assault. She could deal with whatever he had in store. Even as she wondered what it might be. She went back to her friends, apologized for taking so long, and sighed inside as the man she was talking to leered at her breasts. Go ahead and look, she said to herself. You won't get to touch. Only one man in this bar gets to do that. 



The Inga Chroncles Ch. 03



When Inga and her friends returned to their hotel is was close to 2AM. She was tired, both from the number of pastel-colored drinks she'd consumed and from gently--and then, not so gently--informing a number of guys at the bar that she wouldn't be going home with him tonight. Under normal circumstances she might've given in, fucked one of them, left him exhausted and moaning and covered in sweat. But not after the day she'd just had. Not after the man she'd met today. 

She and her giggling friends walked down the hall, talking about the night's events, though Inga still hadn't told any of them about the man who fondled her to orgasm that afternoon, the man who had ejaculated into her mouth at the bar. And she remembered that he said that their little encounter wasn't over yet, and that he'd "see her tonight". But how was that possible? It was 2AM. He'd left the bar shortly before her group did. And when he did leave, he hadn't so much as looked over at her. She wondered if what he said was just talk. And then she remembered his hands on her, all over her, how strong and confident and skilled, and knew that he wasn't just talk. 

She reached in her purse for the keycard to open her door. And couldn't find it. She rummaged around, sure she'd brought it with her...but it wasn't in her purse. "Oh, shit," she said, and one of her friends asked what was the matter. "I don't have my card," she said.

They gathered around as she searched once again, and then one of her friends said, "Maybe it fell out when that guy knocked your purse on the floor."

And Inga felt butterflies take wing in her belly. "What guy?"

"This guy came to the bar to get a drink, he bumped your purse with his elbow. Maybe it fell out when it hit the floor."

Inga nodded. "I'll call the bar tomorrow, maybe they found it." She swallowed. "What did the guy look like?"

"He was cute. Pretty blue eyes, he had a nice smile. He apologized for being klutzy. But he didn't seem to interested in us, he was there with a big group of people."

Inga nodded, and said good night to her friends as she took the elevator down to the lobby. She explained to the clerk what happened and the girl said she'd have a new card made up. Inga slowly looked around to see if he was waiting there in the lobby. He wasn't. She was excited and as her nipples slowly hardened she had to fight the urge to touch them. 

"Here you go," the clerk said. "There will be a $10 charge if you can't find the original..."

"Oh, I'm sure I just left it in the room," Inga said with a smile. "I'll return the extra tomorrow morning."

She went up to her room, stripped, and fought the urge to masturbate. She knew, she KNEW, he'd come to see her tonight. She wanted to be ready for him, for whatever he had ready for her. 

She thought about running a bath, but she was afraid he might come when she was in the bathroom. A bath together would be delicious...but it wasn't big enough. She turned down the lights and lay down on the cool, white sheets. The air conditioner hummed, the bed was soft, and despite herself, despite the excitement and anxiety, she felt herself falling asleep. And a few moments later, she was asleep.

How long she slept she didn't know. She heard the soft "click" at her door, saw a sliver of light cross the room as the door open and closed. She was wide awake now, frightened but aroused, as footsteps sounded and a large figure appeared at the foot of the bed. 

"You're awake?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Yes."

"Good," he said, and she heard him set something heavy down on the dresser. Then she saw him pull his shirt up over his head, heard him unzip and step out of his shorts, and then his boxers. 

"I hope my lip prints didn't cause you any problems tonight," she said nervously.

"They did," he said as he gently seized her ankles and pulled her hips to the edge of the bed. 

Inga tried to keep her voice from breaking. "With that girl you were talking to?" 

"Mmm-hmm." He went down on his knees between her splayed legs. "She wanted me to fuck her, but how could I, with your lipstick all over me. Plus I'd just come like a gusher and wasn't much in the mood."

"So what did you do?" Inga asked, biting her lower lip in anticipation of what must be coming.

"I did this." And his lips brushed the outer lips of her pulsating vagina. He didn't go at her right away, he took his time, as he always too his time. His tongue traced a wet line along the inside of her left thigh, and then across her pubic bone to her right thigh. 

His tongue gently touched the tip of her clitoris. "You made her come?" Inga gasped.

"Of course," he answered, before returing his attention to her thighs. 

"And you didn't come yourself?"

He paused and looked up at her. "You think I'd be content to ejaculate inside anyone but you?" He shook his head as if her question was silly--and his tongue brushed against her clitoris, and this time he didn't pull away.

Inga had to stay quiet, because her friends were sleeping in the rooms on either side. But she wanted to scream. She wanted to SCREAM because he was giving her head and it was so good, so fucking GOOD, that screaming was the only way she could burn off the crackling energy throbbing throughout her body. His lips surrounded her clitoris and his tongue moved in slow circles that made her entire body turn to jelly. His fingertips gently stroked her thighs and he made gentle, "mmm...mmm" sounds that drove her nearly insane. 

She leaned forward to run her fingers through his soft hair, pulling his face deeper into her groin, and his hands reached up and filled themselves with her heavy breasts. His fingers found her nipples and that was all Inga needed, she closed her eyes, bit her lip, and trembled from head to toe as a titanic orgasm thundered through her body. His tongue didn't stop as she climaxed, driving her to greater and greater peaks of ecstasy, until she was whimpering and struggling not to scream. But just as her clitoris became too sensitive, just when the pleasure turned to discomfort, he pulled his mouth away. He sat up. And Inga saw that he was hugely erect, his cock pointed straight her her opening. 

"Yes, yes," she said as he mounted her. "Yes," she said, scuttling back on the bed to give him more room. Yes, he was going to fuck her now, his penis would be inside her vagina and he would stroke it in and out of her until she lost her mind and he lost his resolve and poured himself inside her. Yes, yes, yes...

But he didn't pause to insert himself. He kept crawling forward, until he was sitting lightly on her stomach. "Wait," she said, wanting him to move down and fuck her, but now she saw that he had something in his hand, he'd picked it up off the dresser and he popped the cap on it and tipped it forward. The voluptuous smell of baby oil filled her nostrils, and he poured the buttery liquid all over her breasts. She arched her back as he drizzled oil over her nipples, down her cleavage, down her neck, on her shoulders. He snapped the cap shut and put the bottle down and used both hands to smooth the oil all over her skin. Inga lifted her arms over her head and let him caress her, the oil making her skin slick and pliant and fragrant.

She knew what was coming. He grabbed the bottle, poured more oil between her breasts, tossed the bottle aside, and rose up on his hips. He gently squeezed her breasts together and used his thumb to force his bobbing erection between her oily pillows.

And then he began thrusting, titty-fucking her mammouth breasts with his cock. Inga looked up and saw his powerful frame silhouetted against the wall, his hips rocking back and forth as he stroked his cock between her breasts. "I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you on the beach," he said through clenched teeth.

"You could have in the shower stall," Inga said. He shook his head. "That was all about giving you pleasure," he answered, and Inga moaned at the memory of his soapy hands roving over her body. And then she moaned as his oily thumbs began twiddling her nipples in rhythm with his hips.

A few times his thrusting became too frantic and he popped out. "My cock isn't quite long enough for this," he said, almost apologizing.

"It feels big enough to me," Inga said breathlessly.

"We'll see how you feel when it's inside you."

"Oh, God," she moaned. "Please say you'll fuck me. Please."

"I don't know," he said as his cock squished between her tits. "I like the idea of coming all over your magnificent breasts. And," he said, his voice becoming more ragged, "I think I'm getting close."

"No, please," Inga begged. "Fuck me. Put it inside me. Come inside my pussy. Please. You tasted me, you know how nice it would be inside me. I know you want to be inside me. Please. Fuck me."

He kept thrusting. "You keep talking like that," he growled, "and I'll be coming in five seconds."

She fell silent, the only sound in the room their quickened breathing and the wet sound of his oily cock sliding between her oily breasts. "Please," she said to herself, "Please, please, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckme..."

He snapped his hips back, yanking his cock from between her tits. Her entire body was slick with oil now and he pressed his chest against hers and there was barely any friction as his hips, and his cock, slithered down her belly. He reached up and gently pinned her wrists with his hands. She trembled as the fat head of his penis searched for her opening. "Come now, where is it," he teased, and Inga nearly bit his shoulder in frustration as his rock-hard knob probed her. But when it lodged in the opening of her vagina, his smile vanished, and he swallowed and slowly drove his hips forward, impaling her.

"Ohhhh," he sighed, and then he arched his back, drew his cock out...and sank back inside her. "Inga, ohhh," he moaned. And then he drew his cock out, slid forward, drew it out, pushed harder, pulled back, pushed HARDER, and in a few seconds he was fucking her with energetic thrusts.

Inga could barely register this, as she'd had an orgasm almost the second he entered her. No, it was when he moaned her name, moaned, "Inga, ohhh." She came and the delirous pleasure wouldn't stop, not so long as he was fucking her. He held her arms down and plowed her, but Inga regained control of herself and wrapped her long legs around his waist, her heels dug into his buttocks and forced him to maintaing a brutal pace. He arched his back but her legs were strong and she wouldn't let him break free.

"I think we're both trapped," she said, and he responded by fucking her faster and harder and he leaned down and kissed her and she drove her tongue into his mouth and his lips closed around her tongue and sucked it. They were locked together, they couldn't break free from each other, and he buried his head against her ear and he moaned, "You're gonna make me come, and I want you to hear what you're doing to me!"

"Yes, please, come in me!"

He thrust a few more times, then paused...and then drove his hips spasmodically three or four times before burying himself in her so deep he dug his toes into the bed to get a few more millimeters of penetration. "Ohhhh!" he moaned into her ear. "Inga.....OH!" She felt his penis swell, pulse, and then liquid warmth flooded her pussy. He whimpered and moaned as his cock throbbed and spat and shivered inside her. His semen overflowed her pussy and she felt it oozing out onto her thighs. He released her wrists and she reached down to clasp the small of his back and keep him buried as deeply inside her as possible as he came. He trembled from head to toe as his throes came to an end. It was the biggest orgasm she'd ever seen from a man. 

And she was the one who made him come. 

They lay there for awhile, her body wrapped around his, holding him close, but eventually his penis deflated and her arms and legs grew weary. She released him, and he slowly, slowly unsheathed his penis. Come dribbled out of her onto her sheets, which were also stained with sweat and oil. He rolled off her and lay beside her a few minutes, neither of them able to speak. He finally rolled out of bed, and Inga said desperately, "You're not leaving?"

"I have to. I'm going on a bike trip with my friends in two hours. It's nearly 5AM."

Inga rolled over and saw that the clock read 4:53. "But..." she said. 

"Get up," he commanded, and as always Inga had to obey when he spoke. When she was out of bed he reached down and yanked all the sheets off the bed. He bundled them in a ball and tossed them in a corner, and then he went to the dresser where a stack of fresh sheets lay. "I knew things might get a bit oily.." he said with a smile in his voice. "Why don't you go to the bathroom and clean up a bit. I'm afraid I made a mess all over your beautiful skin." She did just that, running a washcloth under warm water and washing her breasts, her stomach, and her pussy. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw a grinning woman who had just had her brains fucked out. 

When she returned he'd just finished making the bed. He smoothed it out with his hands, and then he took Inga by the hand and led her back to bed. He kissed her on the lips, he kissed her right nipple, he leaned down and kissed her freshly-washed pussy. And then he pulled the cool sheet up over her breasts and gave her hip a last caress. 

"Get some sleep. I'm sure you're exhausted."

"Aren't you?" she asked. She didn't want him to leave. 

"I'm exhilarated," he said. "I'll have a nap in the afternoon. I'd like to stay, but I'm a bit afraid of what you might do to me in my sleep."

He stood, got dressed, and said, "Oh, here's you're keycard. What a happy coincidence, me finding it at the bar."

"Sure," Inga said, "A coincidence."

He started to leave. "What's your name?" Inga said.

He paused. "I don't think I'm going to tell you. A little mystery will keep you interested."

"You think I'm won't still be interested after I learn your name?"

She could tell he was grinning. "They way you came just now, I think I could keep you interested for a bit longer."

He moved to the door. Inga said, "Honey?"

"Yes?"

"You really should be worried about what I might do to you in your sleep."

He paused again. "Should I?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

He quietly opened the door. "Maybe now I won't be able to sleep. Or, maybe not." He shut the door behind him, and was gone.

Inga let her head rest against the pillow. It was very cool. It was very soft. It was very quiet in her room. It was very late. And thirty seconds later, Inga was sound asleep, dreaming of ways to disturb the slumber of the man who would fill her dreams for years to come. 



The Inga Chroncles Ch. 04



Inga and her friends made it down to the beach around noon the next day. The topic of conversation as they hunted for a good place to set up shop was that that none of them had gotten any action yet. This was supposed to be a Girls-Gone-Wild getaway, yet so far they hadn't made a kill. Inga decided not to tell them that in the last 24 hours she'd had three of the most thrilling sexual encounters of her life. She wanted to keep that secret all to herself, for now. 

There was the fact that she didn't know the name of the man who, early that morning, had slipped into her room and then, after eating her pussy like a starving man, has slipped into her vagina and fucked her so good she could still feel it between her legs. He wouldn't tell her his name when he left, and Inga decided that today would be the day she extracted that information from him. Yes, that was the word--"extract". She would compel him to talk. Force him. She do things to his body that would make his writhe and squeal and surrender any piece of information she desired. The mere thought of him wriggling beneath her touch made her wet and flushed and drove her half-mad with lust. 

Inga saw a few familiar faces a few yards away. They were the group her mystery man had been with the night before in the bar. "Why don't we set down here?" she said, looking over those faces to see if she could see the only one she had eyes for. But no, he wasn't there. Her friends agreed and the spread out their towels and got their chairs situated. The sun wasn't quite so hot today, a good day to relax and work on your tan. Inga stretched the straps of her pale-green swimsuit to readjust her prodigious breasts, and settled down to think about how she would get her man.

One of the men sitting next to them got up and walked over to them. "I think we were at the same club last night," he said to one of Inga's friends. 

"I think we were," she said, cooly appraising him.

"You know, all night I wanted to talk to you, but that guy you were talking to didn't leave you alone for one second. I kept waiting for him to go to the bathroom but he never did. He didn't go in his pants, did he?"

Inga's friend laughed. "No, he didn't. But I wondered about that too, he didn't give me a second's peace. And all he wanted to talk about was how he didn't think the outdoor deck conformed to the local building codes."

The man said, "Really? That's so very, very fascinating. Building codes. Now there's a player."

Inga's friend laughed, and pretty soon a few of his other friends noticed the promising signs and came over. Inga could see that a few of the men in the group were married, but quite a few were single and probably not adverse to talking to a group of attractive females, even those a few years older than them. Oddly, none of them made any advances toward Inga. They were polite to her, they included her in conversation, they leered at her tits, but the four men each had eyes for one of her four friends. 

So where was HER man, the man she desperately wanted to see right now? One of her friends serendipitously provided the answer. "Hey," she said, "your buddy last night knocked over Inga's purse and made her lose her key card!"

"What," one of the guys said, and when her friend explained the situation he said, "Oh, that's Chris. He didn't say anything about it, are you sure it was him?"

"Of course," her friend said. "I saw him go back to your group after he apologized."

"So you were checking us out..." he teased.

Her friend smiled, "I check out every cute boy I see."

The flirtatious banter went on a few seconds more before Inga said, "Is your friend Chris coming down later? Maybe he saw the card fall on the floor? I'm going to call them later to see if they found it."

His friend said, "He's up at the house sleeping. A few in our group went on a bike ride at some ungodly hour this morning and he went out too hard. Julie," he motioned over his shoulder at a woman talking to her husband, "said Chris did an extra ten mile loop and met them at the end of the boardwalk, and by the time he got back he was exhausted. He was a bundle of energy this morning, I heard."

Inga's mouth went dry. He was sleeping up at the house. He was alone. He was exhausted. She flexed her fingers, wiggled her toes, took a deep breath. She had to go to him, now. While he was so deliciously vulnerable. 

"I'm going to visit the ladies room," she said, and rose without anyone taking much notice. She walked down the beach...then made a sharp left turn for the steps leading to the road. She knew which house he was staying in, after he took her there yesterday and ran his hands over every quivering inch of her body. And now she'd turn the tables on him. On Chris. She liked that name. She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning it out loud. 

She reached the house...and heard snoring. Quiet snoring, coming from the second-floor deck. He was there, outside, sleeping in the sun. Inga went to the front door and gently turned the knob. It twisted all the way and she stepped inside.

The house was empty. She kicked off her sandals and walked soundlessly up the stairs. There were clean, folded towels sitting the dining room table and two boxes of cereal sitting on the kitchen counter. The kitchen was open and faced the living room, and Inga saw that next to the cereal was a bottle of tanning oil. She picked up the bottle and felt that it was nearly full. And then something in the kitchen caught her eye. There was a knife block near the stove and tucked in the block were a pair of kitchen shears. With trembling fingers Inga pulled the shears out of their notch and walked toward the deck.

Inga slipped the straps off her shoulders and stepped out of her suit. She pushed the far screen door open and stepped onto the cool wood. There he was, stretched out on a chaise lounge and sound asleep, sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He wore a ratty pair of mesh running shorts and nothing else. Quietly she uncapped the bottle of oil and poured it all over her breasts, stomach and thighs. Then she walked slowly toward him, careful to not let her shadow fall across his face. She paused next to where he lay, threw her leg over him, and sat down across his thighs.

He jerked violently as he came awake. "What the hell," he mumbled, trying to twist free, but Inga was a big girl and he had no leverage. "Remember me?" Inga said, running her slick hands up his chest to press him back down.

He fell back and Inga eased herself up a few inches until she had his thighs under her buttocks. "I told you what I'd do to you in your sleep." Already his shorts were becoming a tent and she slipped a hand through the opening by his thigh to caress him.  

"How did you know I was up here?" he demanded, and Inga ignored him. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" she asked, and then answered her own question. "I'm going to make you tell me your name."

He laughed. "You think?"

She shook her head. "I know."

She reached down and pulled out the kitchen shears. For the briefest second a look of fear crossed his face but then she grabbed a handful of his shorts along the hip and used the shears to slice his shorts open in one deft, "zzzzzip!" Underneath he was wearing tighty-whities and it took Inga and the shears two seconds to slit them open. "And now," she breathed, pulled the folds of fabric away to reveal his stiff and bobbing erection. 

She had to control herself. She wanted to suck it, she wanted it in her mouth and she wanted him to pour his semen down her throat. She wanted to sit on it, she wanted to grind her hips against his pubic bone and feel all that hot flesh throbbing inside her until he filled her with come. But that wasn't why she was here. She was here to interrogate him. She was here to make him talk. She had to stay in control.

She grabbed the bottle of oil, uncapped it, and poured it all over his chest and groin. He sighed as rivulets slithered down his chest and pooled along his belly. She let the bottle rest against his cock and used both hands to coat his skin with glistening oil. "What's your name, honey?"

"I'm only permitted to tell you my rank and serial number," he said. "They dropped the name portion a few years back."

Inga picked up the bottle and poured oil all over his cock, covering his shaft in the honey-colored liquid. "I'm going to ask you that question again," Inga said, "and I'll expect a more forthright answer."

She wrapped her hand around his shaft and started pumping, her breasts jiggling as she stroked him. He let out a long breath and let his head fall back. "Yeah..." he groaned. 

Inga stopped and his head popped back up. "Come on," he panted, and Inga gave him two strokes before stopping. He licked his lips and Inga put both hands around his cock and twisted them back and forth as if she was trying to start a fire using his erection. And then she stopped. He twisted his hips but she had him under control and he knew it.

She put his cock inside her fist again and started pumping. "What's your name?" she asked quietly, and before he could answer she said, "I know, you won't tell me. Yet. But when you're desperate to come, you'll tell me. And I'm going to make you desperate."

Inga made a ring of the thumb and index finger of her right hand and wrapped it round the base of his shaft. She slowly drew it up the entirely of his cock until the gorgeous, fat head popped through. Before it did she repeated the act with her left and, and then went back to her right, so that it felt like his penis was pulling out of the longest, slickest, hottest pussy in the universe. She did this until his head started rocking back and forth...and then she reversed the procedure, starting at the very tip of his penis and pulling her fingers down, down, down to the base of his shaft, using both hands, one at a time, his infinitely long cock penetrating a pussy that extended to the end of the universe.

Sweat broke out on his forehead and chest, visible even through the oil. "What's your name, honey?" she cooed. He just shook his head. Inga got more oil and poured it over his cock. A tiny stream trickled over his balls and Inga gently caressed them until they too were shiny with oil. She made a V of the index finger and thumb of her left hand and stroked the tender skin around his testicles while her right hand resumed stroking him.

"Oh God," he breathed as she masturbated him. It was very quiet on the deck but Inga could hear the occasional car go by, hear pedestrians chatting as they passed the house. "Until I know you're name, you don't get to come," Inga said, slowing the pace until he looked more under control. 

A solidary drop of oil hung at the base of his testicles, and Inga used her middle finger to smooth it out until her finger rested at the base. Her fingertips touched the sensitive skin between his anus and his balls and his mouth fell open and he shivered and a tiny, frightened, "Oh!" escaped his lips. She smiled warmly and said, "You like that?" and when she was rewarded with a weak nod she let her hand snake down below his balls and she tenderly caressed him there as she masturbated him.

He would twitch, jerk, moan softly as she touched him. And Inga realized that the closer her fingertips came to his anus, the more he whimpered. She remembered how he had fingered her in the asshole, how that penetration had thrilled her into revealing her own name, and excited almost beyond words now Inga slid a few inches down his thighs to give herself better access to his ass. She pressed her index finger against his sphincter and he moaned and arched his back. "No," he bleated.

"Yes," Inga breathed. "Tell me your name or you know what happens next."

He squirmed but it was impossible to tell if he was trying to move away or toward her. "No, please!"

Inga tipped the bottle of oil and let it drip all over her fingers. She kept at his opening, probing, teasing, and all the while he moaned and whimpered and begged her to stop. All the while struggling to open his legs to give her better access. 

He opened his thighs enough for Inga to wiggle her finger inside him. "What is your name?" she demanded.

"Chris," he cried, a huge smile blossoming over his face as she penetrated him. "My name is Chris! Please, don't, please...put it..."

Inga stood up and released his legs. She sat down on the chaise lounge, grabbed his ankles, and draped his legs on her shoulders. His legs hung in the air, in much the same position he's put her in last night. His anus was fully exposed and completely vulnerable and she inserted her index fingers inside him all the way to the knuckle. He pushed his hips forward to maximize the penetration and he breathed heavily through his open mouth as she fingered him.

He bit his lip, arched his back, and groaned, "Uhhh, my name's Chris." Inga grabbed his penis and started jerking him like a madwoman. She was mad, she was finger-fucking him and jerking him and from the expression on his face he was in the throes of some unspeakable rapture.

"You like it in the ass, Chrissy?" she teased. "You like your legs in the air while you get fucked?"

He nodded mournfully. "You win," he groaned. "But...uhhh...how did you know to...oh...to DO that?" 

"You did it to me yesterday, and it made me talk," Inga said, pistoning her finger in and out of his rectum. The tender resistence her finger met made her want to push it in harder, deeper, and every time she upped the pace Chris's face would contort, twist...and then relax into a beatific smile. She pulled out her index finger and saw him look down in frantic disappointment. Inga poured oil over her fingers, smeared it around his opening, and then gently inserted her middle finger, allowing her to burrow a few delicious centimeters deeper inside him. She visualized his excited prostate gland swelling with semen as she tenderly stimulated it over and over and over again. 

She fingered him, she masturbated him. And as she did so Chris raised his legs so high they came off her shoulders, and he reached up and grabbed his ankles to allow her total freedom to ravish him. His eyes never closed, he stared at her quivering breasts, at her lips, at the fingers that were torturing him. His hips undulated slowly as she had her way with him, and again Inga felt an almost overwhelming urge to sit down on that straining erection and feel it split her in two. But was so vulnerable, so exposed, that Inga didn't want to relinquish this position of total control. 

"Do you want to come?" Inga demanded.

"Yes, please," he cried, and Inga released his cock and instead wiggled her finger deeper inside his ass. He cried out and Inga said, "You'll come when I say you can come."

She wanted to keep him like this all day, and all night, quivering and moaning and his skin glistening more now from sweat than the oil. But she was a bit out of control herself. She wanted to see him come, she wanted to see him surrender to the pleasure, surrender to HER. She wanted to MAKE him come. She poured more oil in her hand, smeared it all over his cock, and started pumping. And pumping. And pumping. Her finger in his ass never stopped moving and she pumped and pumped and pumped his penis until she could tell he was perilously close.

"Don't you dare come," Inga said sharply. "Don't you come until I say so."

"I...Inga...I can't..." he licked his lips.

"Hold it in. Don't come. Not until I say!"

She stroked him faster, and a tremor ran through his body. "Oh, oh my God."

"No. Don't do it."

"I have to! You're..." and his voice grew very quiet. "You're making me come..."

"No."

"Oh...ohh....OHHH!"

Inga buried her finger in his ass and let her palm flutter around the head of his erection before jacking him off like a machine. "Don't you dare come!"

He gasped, arched his back, and bleated, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"No!" she demanded, but she couldn't hold back a feral smile as his legs fell to the floor and his hips tensed and a watery gout of semen pulsed out of his penis and sprayed all over his chest up to his shoulders. Inga kept fingering him and stroking him as Chris had an orgasm that awed her. His second ejaculation was far more copious and splattered his chest just past his nipples. And then his cock fluttered in her hand and irregular gouts of come jetted all over his belly and crotch, and he moaned softy and writhed and squealed--exactly as she'd fantasized about. And she kept her finger and her fist working until she'd extracted--extracted--every ounce of semen his testicles possessed. 

He lay on his back, arms out to the side, legs splayed. His chest rose and heaved from the colossal exertion. "Look what you did to me," he said, his eyes looking down at his cum-splattered skin. "Look what you made me do."

Inga rose, knelt down, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "I'm glad we've now been properly introduced, Chris." She held out her hand, "In case you'd forgotten, my name is Inga."

He took her hand and shook it. "Inga. I think I'll remember that name."

"I think you will." She kissed him again, and he kissed back as best he could in his state. She rose and started to walk toward the house. "I left my friends talking to some of your friends. It wouldn't surprise me if a few of them ended up in bed tonight. Isn't that a happy coincidence? It gives us a chance to spend some time together."

"If I spend more time with you," he croaked. "I might drop dead."

"Oh, I wouldn't let that happen," she said as she slipped on her suit. "I'll need a dip in the ocean before I go back. You need a shower, honey. A long, soapy shower." She walked back and gently touched his gooey erection, and Chris twitched. 

"You know, it's going to be hard for me to top this," he said.

"I know," she said, looming over him and kissing him on the lips. "See you down at the beach."

She walked back to the house, and then she heard his voice over her shoulder. "It'll be hard...but not impossible."

Inga left the house and walked to a different set of stairs before returning the beach. Her skin glistened with tanning oil and sweat, and she walked down to the surf and gingerly walked into the waves. The cold water felt delicious on her sizzling skin and after a few minutes bobbing in the water she waded out and walked back to her friends. 

They were deep in conversation with their new boy toys. Yes, there would be a lot of sex tonight, she thought. She wondered if these strapping younger men knew what her friends would do to them in the bedroom, how hungry and aggressive they were. 

Well, if they talked to Chris, he could clue them in.

"What took you so long?" one of her friends asked, and Inga said that on the walk back she'd started talking to a man and they went for a dip. "But then he let it slip that his wife wasn't coming down till tonight and, hey, would I like to see his hotel room?"

"Tsk," one of the guys said. "That's pretty weak."

And another grinned and said, "Well, you can't blame the guy for trying."

Thirty minutes later a shadow moved behind Inga and there he was, Chris, in bathing trunks and a towel over his shoulder. His friends jeered at him for sleeping so long, and after he traded a few insults back he was introduced to all her friends.

"And this is Inga," he was told, and he leaned down and shook her hand. He said, "You know, I think I knocked your purse off the bar last night. I'm very sorry."

"That's all right," Inga said. 

"She think she lost the card for her hotel room when it fell," one of her friends said. "You really need to make it up to her..."

His face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry. If you don't find it let me know, I'll pay for it."

"Don't worry about it," Inga said, smiling at him. 

There was room for him to sit next to her, but instead he said, "I think I'm gonna go for a swim," and he walked off. 




The Inga Chroncles Ch. 04



One of his friends said, "Now that was rude of him."

Inga stretched out in her chair. "Oh, don't you worry," she said. "I think he'll be back."



The Inga Chroncles Ch. 05



The club wasn't as crowded as the first night Inga and her friends visited, but it didn't matter. They'd brought their own boys along this time, and Inga watched as each of her friends got tipsy and giggly and touchy-feely with the young man they'd paired off with at the beach. Yes, by the end of the night Inga knew the hotel rooms surrounding her own would be filled with the sounds of sex, bedsprings squeaking and lusty moaning and orgasmic cries. 

Inga looked over at Chris, the man she'd had four frantic sexual encounters with the last two days. No one knew they were lovers. When they'd been "introduced" that afternoon, he'd played it cool, barely acknowledging her. His friends thought he was being rude-it wasn't right that Inga alone didn't have a playmate. In fact, his coolness thrilled her. Their affair was a secret, something they alone shared, and the fact that he wasn't willing to share his conquest of her with his friends made her want him even more. Most guys would've bragged about bagging a tall, sexy blonde with breasts that demanded your attention. But he hadn't said a word. 

Of course, that might've been due to the fact that earlier that afternoon she had mercilessly masturbated him and fingered him until he lost control of himself. So far they'd traded the upper hand back and forth, and the knowledge that each had the power to send the other into paroxysms of ecstasy made this pas de deux even more delicious. What did he have in store for her tonight? What did SHE have in store for him?

He was standing at the other end of the bar, talking to a few of his friends. Inga rested her arm on the bar, sipping a very tart margarita, and then she let her eyes move over to him. He was staring at her, staring at her the way he did that first night at the bar, and she licked her lips and wanted him inside her right then and there. He looked away, a secret smile on his lips, and Inga remembered how that afternoon he hadn't been smiling. He'd been whimpering, glistening with sweat, straining as she plumbed his hidden depths. And her own secret smile spread over her lips.

"I need to visit the ladies' room," one her friends said, a cue to Inga, and the two of them walked down the hall and into the peach-colored bathroom. Her friend opened her purse, grabbed her lipstick, and said, "Good, I brought two condoms!"

"Think you'll need them?" Inga asked with a smile.

"Oh, maybe not," her friend said. "Maybe I'll blow him first, then fuck him after. So he lasts long enough to make me happy. God, I just LOVE younger men!"

They both laughed, and then Inga pushed back her hair and redid her lipstick. Her friend said, "I feel bad there isn't one for you."

Inga laughed. "The night is still young."

"I know, but I thought that one guy, Chris...I know he's single. But he doesn't even seem interested in talking to you. Must be stuck-up."

Inga sighed and shrugged. "He's not really my type, so it's no big deal."

"Probably hung like a string bean."

"Probably," Inga agreed, and they both laughed. They walked back to the bar, Inga remembering how fat and stiff Chris's cock got when it was in her mouth the night before. In the dining room just down the hall from the ladies' room. 

Normally Inga and her friends would close a bar when they were on vacation. But by midnight, they were all ready to leave. With their boys, of course. There was no reason to drink any more, and there was nothing left to say. Each couple had already reached the same conclusion-it was time to fuck. Right now. Not an hour from now. Now. Time to fuck.

They left the bar, four couples...and Inga. She needed a ride back to the hotel and outside the bar there was some discussion as to who would be stuck with her in the back seat during the long ride back. No one seemed eager to postpone the groping to come to give Inga a lift back. 

"Um, I guess we can give you a ride..." her one friend said, when a voice behind her said, "I'm going home too. I 'll give you a lift."

It was Chris. Of course it was. Inga turned and said, "No, that's OK, I can ride with..."

Her friend said, "Thank you, that's great, bye!" and they all practically leapt into their cars. Five seconds later they pulled off into the night, red taillights illuminating Inga and Chris as they stood outside the bar. 

"It's Inga, right?" he said. "I didn't quite catch your name down at the beach."

She laughed. "And you're Chris, right? When you told me your name it was a bit hard to understand."

He grinned. "I was a bit incoherent, wasn't it?"

"Just a bit."

Her young lover showed Inga to his car, held the door open for her. Inga wondered what he had planned, if anything. "Since your friends are going to be molesting a few of my innocent buddies at their hotel, our house is totally empty. And it will be till 2AM, when the bar closes."

Inga said, "There's no one there?"

He nodded. "A few of our gang when home today, the ones with kids. They don't live too far away, they just came down for a quick visit." He snapped open his cell phone, dialed a number, and waited. He hung up without speaking, and said, "Just making sure nobody's home."

Inga let her hand slip into his lap. "I don't want any games. I don't want any power plays. I just want some nice, slow sex."

He opened his legs and sighed. "Sounds good to me."

"No restraints, no torture."

"No torture. I'm up for that."

They hit every green light on the road down the beach, Inga's fingers tracing the outline of his erection through his shorts. "We have a chair in the living room, it's almost a recliner, you can lie down on it with your legs extended," he said. "I want to lie down on it and have you sit on me."

"Mmm...I wanted to sit on you this afternoon."

"I know. I want to see those big boobies bouncing back and forth as you ride me..."

They pulled into the driveway. Inga burrowed her hand inside his shorts but he pulled her hand away and opened his door. They walked to the house at the double, anxious to be inside and naked and entwined with each other. He led her inside, up the stairs, and by the time the reached the top step Inga had her heels kicked off and her blouse pulled up over her head. "Anyone home?" he called out, and when there was no answer he took off his shirt. Inga reached back to unhook her brassiere when he said, "Wait, let me do that."

It was dark inside the house, and quiet, and Inga felt him looming behind her. His hands were strong and sure as he freed her breasts from the cups and hefted them gently. She knew how he liked this position of power, his hands free to roam all over her body, just as he'd done in the shower stall. He kissed her shoulders, her neck, and then the tip of his tongue rimmed her earlobe before he took an inquisitive nibble.

She wanted him, she wanted him to spear her from behind and grab her hips and pull her hair. But instead he knelt behind her, and his wet tongue drew across the small of her back. He put his hands on her hips and slowly, slowly, turned her until she was facing him. His tongue touched the soft skin just above her pussy, and then he pulled her close and started rimming her navel, his fingertips finding the insides of her thighs. Inga breathed through her mouth and bent her knees. She looked down into her magnificent cleavage and saw him staring up at her. He stared up at her as he grabbed the thin straps of her black silk thong and pulled them down to her ankles. His eyes never left her, not until he gazed down at her naked pussy and started tonguing and kissing her belly...and lower.

She wanted to squat, she wanted to sit straight down on him and feel all that hardness inside her. He stood up, took off his shirt, popped the button on his shorts and let them fall around his ankles. As he stepped out of them Inga stepped forward and hooked her fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down. They snagged briefly on his erection before they too fell to the floor. She was about to fall to her knees to put him in her mouth when he again took her hips in his hands and gently made her turn around. Again his hands found her heavy breasts, his fingers tenderly tweaking the nipples that instantly hardened under his touch.

His ground his hips against her ass, his penis lodging neatly in the cleft of her buttocks. Inga gritted her teeth as he fondled her, wanting him to fuck her but at the same time not wanting him to stop what he was doing. Just as she thought she couldn't stand it any more his right hand moved down her body and warm fingers slid along her furrow. She was wet and he moistened his fingertips before touching her clitoris. 

"Oh my God," Inga moaned as his index finger slowly circled her clit. "You're gonna make me come again with your fingers, I can't believe this."

He slowly humped her ass as he diddled her. "Just with my touch," he whispered, and Inga opened her legs even wider to give him complete access to her pussy. His deft fingers slithered all over her pussy, and Inga groaned as he printed tender kisses along her neck, her earlobes, his breath warm against her skin. 

"We need to sit down," he said, and guided her over to the recliner he'd talked about in the car. It was old and beat-up, but it looked comfortable and sturdy. Chris sat down first and extended the recliner's legs before patting the spot between his splayed legs. "Snuggle up, baby," he growled.

She sat down and wriggled her ass against his cock. "I want you inside me," she hissed as his hands seized her hips and pulled her tight against him.

"Soon," he breathed in her ear, "but not just yet. Stretch out your legs."

She did as she was told, and Chris hooked his ankles inside hers and gently edged her thighs apart. He had her totally under his power now, and his hands moved from her hips to her loins. Inga arched her back, exhaled, and let her head loll to the side. His fingers were diabolical, they seemed to know where her pussy's every trembling nerve ending was located. "Chris, what do you do for a living?" she panted. "Are you a concert pianist? Or a sculptor, maybe?"

He laughed. "I've always had good hands. Always knew how to make a girl feel good with just a tickle. But I'm actually a writer. Maybe all that typing helps."

"Maybe it does," she gasped. "I'm going to come soon."

His voice was calm. "Soon, but not just yet. You said you wanted it nice and slow. I could diddle you all night long."

His fingertips skated over the throbbing bud of her clitoris and then his thick middle finger pressed against her opening and insisted on entry. It seemed like he couldn't help himself either, couldn't keep teasing her when her body was so obviously close to exploding. "I know your cock wants to be inside me," Inga said, "I can feel how wet the tip is, you're leaving your marks all over my ass." 

"I'm going to leave my wetness all over your body," he whispered in her ear. "All over your skin, and deep inside your pussy."

"And my mouth?" Inga said, hoping that he would either have the discipline or the endurance to save at least one climax for her mouth. She wanted to feel him throbbing between her lips, his hips twisting as her sucking mouth and darting tongue drove him insane...

Just thinking about loving him with her mouth drove Inga over the edge. She pushed her hips forward a bit and Chris seemed to sense her climax was imminent and his fingers spooled about her clitoris. "Oh, yes," she said as it started, her orgasm was going to be huge and she knew she had just a few moments before the ecstasy crashed over her and turned her into a screaming, thrashing madwoman. 

It was at this exact moment that Chris's fingertips fluttered like butterfly kisses over her clitoris and that utterly shattered her resolve. Chris's digital exploration of her pussy was making it impossible to postpone her first climax, and Inga let out a long, "Ohhhh..." She was on the cusp, her legs wanted to spread out even more, she was going to come and nothing on earth could stop her. Here she was, totally nude, a man's strong hands busy between her splayed legs, and she reveled in it. 

"Oh, oh," she mewed, reaching up to fondle her nipples. She arched her back, and grabbed his right wrist. "I think I'm gonna come," she moaned. 

He laughed in her ear. "You think you're gonna to come...or you ARE going to come?"

She shivered, she was so close. Chris drove another finger deep inside her, probing her, feeling for the tender spots that would shatter her utterly. Her hips rose and fell and she cried out as he pressed his fingers against the upper wall of her cavity. 

He rested his cheek on her shoulder. "You look so fierce when you're about to come," he said quietly. "I'd love to tie you up someday and spend hours bringing you to the brink and then pulling back. You'd probably tear the house down around you."

"I'm not tied down now," Inga panted, "so you'd better finish me or I'll break the arms off this fucking chair."

"Mmm..." he growled. "I think you're close.'

Her voice cracking, she said. "I am close. Finish me. Make me come. Make me come with your fucking fingers!"

Her orgasm overwhelmed whatever fears she had that the neighbors might hear and despite herself Inga felt a need to vocal, that maybe her voice to help ease some of the incredible tension inside her. "Chris, fuck, yes, oh GOD! Don't stop, don't stop, keep your finger inside me, I wish it was you COCK! Oh God YES!" She seized the armrests of the chair and pressed herself back against his chest. "Chris, you make me feel so FUCKING GOOD!" Her hips shuddered despite his hold on her pelvis. 

The thunder inside her died down, and Chris removed his fingers from her pussy. "Chris," Inga said, "I have to suck your cock. I have to suck it RIGHT NOW."

"Come and get it, baby."

He tried to keep her from turning over, teasing her, holding her in place, but she broke free and pushed his legs apart. The smug look in his eyes evaporated when she grabbed his penis and let her tongue dance around the hard and shiny tip. She opened her mouth wide and engulfed his impatient penis, and his entire body sagged as she sucked him off. "Uhh, oh, yes" he mumbled weakly as she bobbed her head up and down in his lap. 

She loved him like he'd never been loved before. She let him fall from her lips and she pinned his shaft against his belly and ran her tongue and lips along his length. Her mouth made wet, lascivious noises as she sucked at the tender flesh just under his throbbing helmet. He tried rotating his hips but Inga held him fast and put him back in her mouth for more maddening up-and-down sucking.

"I don't want to come in your mouth," he rasped. "Don't make me come in you mouth."

"Am I getting you close?" she asked, starting to like the idea that she was playing a part in a movie.

"You know you are, you can probably taste how close I am."

"I can taste you. All that juice, waiting to pour down my throat."

"Don't make me come in you mouth," he insisted. "I won't be able to fuck you the way I want if you do."

She laughed and stroked his saliva-slick penis. "I wore you out this afternoon, didn't I? Got a big load out of you."

"The biggest load of my life," he admitted. "I want to break my record tonight."

"And you want it to be in my pussy."

"Yes." 

"My warm, wet, pussy."

"Yes," he said through clenched teeth. 

She pinned his penis against his belly and used her tongue to tease the satiny stripe below his cleft. "You must really want to fuck me, if you won't let me suck you off."

Now it was his turn to sigh and squirm and her tongue continued its tender assault on his most sensitive flesh. "If I don't fuck you I'll go insane, but your mouth feels so good right now..."

She put him back in her mouth and savagely blew him for ten, fifteen seconds...and then she stopped. He grunted, and she rose to her feet. She said, "One of us has to show a little self-control."

His eyes locked on her pussy and she threw her leg over the extended legs of the chair and mounted him. "You did say you wanted me to ride you," she said softly as she circled the base of his cock and aimed his tip at her opening.

"I did," he sighed as she maneuvered him into position. He closed his eyes, and she did the same as he entered her. "Inga," he moaned, and she lowered her hips until his was burned inside her. He had no leverage, he was totally in her power, and she could see that he loved it. "Inga," he said again, his eyes open now, a smile on his lips. 

They fucked exactly as he'd wanted, Inga riding him, her huge breasts bouncing as she rose and fell over his delicious body. She rocked her hips back and forth and he moaned with delight as his cock slipped in and out of her slick pussy. 

"Look at me," he demanded, and she obeyed. Their eyes stayed locked together for a long time as they moved together, and Inga put her hands on his stomach and tugged at the hairs around his navel. "We're good at this, aren't we?"

He laughed. "Good and getting better every day." 

"I'm here for two more days, I think by then we'll have this down pat." Her thighs touched his pelvis as she rose and fell above his shivering cock. He had a firm grip on her hips and helped her slide up and down his shaft, her enormous breasts swaying just out of the range of his hungry mouth. He eased her down and then held her like that, his cock buried inside her, and he struggled to lean forward and nuzzle her left breast. She could feel him throbbing inside her and she splayed her fingers in his hair and pulled his head forward to suck and lick her nipples. 

It was a moment of stillness, neither of them moving. Except for Chris's tongue and soft, tugging lips. But the room seemed to fill with tension, both of them straining against these few seconds of inertia. Inga wanted him to fuck her. She wanted to lay on her back and look between her legs as this magnificent man plowed her until she was screaming and he poured every drop of his semen inside her. She squirmed on his cock, and Chris looked up and said, "Stand up."

He looked so determined she nearly said, "Yes, sir". She stood up. He did the same, and he said, "Sit down." She obeyed, and he pushed the footrest of the chair until it sprang shut. He tossed a pillow on the floor and knelt, his erection pressed against his belly. The anticipation nearly made Inga nauseous as he grabbed her ankles and opened her up wide. 

"Yes," she whispered as he grabbed his erection and rubbed it over the moist lips of her pussy. "Yessss," she said again as he slowly, so slowly, entered her. She was wet and he was hard and by the time their pelvises touched his eyes were shut and his mouth formed a silent "O".

"Jesus," she breathed.

There was an actual tremor in his voice as he said, "It's not going to take me long, I want to warn you."

Inga raised her arms above her head, her luscious breasts lolling to the side. "I promise you won't last long, baby boy."

He started thrusting, slowly at first, but after just a few seconds he had an iron grip on her hips and was blasting away at her. This was exactly what Inga craved, what she needed, and it felt so good, so PERFECT, that she couldn't even scream. The breath came out of her in a strangled hiss, and she had to gasp for air as his pounding brought her to the brink of orgasm. She gulped air and grabbed the back of the chair just above her head and held on for dear life. Now it was Chris who had a fierce look on his face, his eyes blazing even in the darkness. The chair was squeaking and rocking as they fucked with a fury that thrilled Inga almost beyond her capacity to comprehend. 

"Fuck me, don't stop, don't slow...uhh...yessss...fuck me, faster, FASTER, YES!!"

Chris put his left hand on her pelvis to steady her as he fucked her and his thumb gently tweaked her clitoris and that sent Inga reeling. In just a few seconds her legs started to shake and she had a climax so violent she thought she might indeed break the chair. "Chris, Jesus CHRIST! I...oh, FUCK ME, YES, FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME!!!"




The Inga Chroncles Ch. 05



Her arms ached from pulling against the headrest and she kept mewing and groaning as his now-frantic thrusting kept her at the peak of ecstasy. Her breasts jiggled in rhythm with this thrusting and Inga smiled though her gritted teeth as she saw a slack-jawed Chris staring at her undulating tits. "Don't stop FUCKING ME! DON'T STOP!" She shuddered in the same rhythm as her spasming pussy and she felt herself peaking yet again. "Chris, please, don't stop, don't stop!"

He didn't stop. His hips were a blur, his breathing loud and rasping. "I'm gonna come," he said in an almost businesslike voice, but Inga could tell from his crazed expression that he was totally out of control. 

"Baby, not just yet, give me a little more, fuck me a little more..."

"Jesus, Inga, you're so wet for me, Jesus...you feel so good..."

"Fuck me, FUCK ME!" Inga said, and as she came again she kept up the same mantra, "Fuck me fuck me FUCK ME!!!!" She gripped his forearms and looked between her legs, where all the ecstasy in the world was pooled and flowing to every cell in her body. She looked at her lover's penis, at the glistening shaft pistoning in and out of her vagina so fast she couldn't believe the delicious friction wasn't painful. 

"I'm gonna COME," he snarled, and grabbed the arms of the recliner to get even more leverage against her pussy. His eyes locked on hers and he bellowed, "Look what you're gonna make me DO, Inga! Look at how wet I'm gonna make your pussy!"

"Come in me," she commanded. "Come inside me, baby boy, fill me up, fill me up. Come in me. Come in me. Come in me come in me COME IN ME!"

"No, I'm gonna hold it," he said savagely. "I'm gonna hold it in and I'm just gonna keep on fucking you until you beg me to stop..."

But Inga saw the weakness in his eyes and felt the irregular spasms of his penis and knew he was teetering on the point of no return. "You think I'll beg, babydoll?" she taunted. "I don't beg. I fucking COMMAND. I give you fucking ORDERS. And I order you to come inside me RIGHT NOW."

His lips went tight, his thrusts became deeper. "I'm gonna hold it," he whimpered, I'm gonna..."

"Your going to come, baby. Come in me, come in me now. Give up, baby, come in me, come inside my pussy, you want to so much, I know how much that gorgeous cock wants to blow and show how much it loves my pussy...come in me. Come. Come. COME!"

The effort was etched on his face. And then his jaw went slack, his eyes shut for a second, but then they snapped open as he screamed, SCREAMED, "You're MAKING ME COME! I'M GONNA COME INSIDE YOU. INGA, INGA, I'M COMING!!!!"

Inga felt herself climaxing again as Chris crashed into her, and she was nearly sobbing as she moaned, "Baby, yes, baby, come in me, fill me up, I want it all, all your come, please..."

He moaned like a bull and buried the head of his cock as deep inside her as he could, and just then there was a loud CRACK as the back legs of the recliner snapped. Inga's hips jerked in the air as her back fell toward the ground, but Chris kept his hands on the recliner's arms and kept thrusting, kept pumping even as the chair collapsed around them. She desperately wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled her deep inside as the tip of his penis opened and flooded her with so much semen that it dribbled out all over the seat. His eyes never left hers throughout his entire orgasm, even as the chair tipped over and they fell softly to the floor.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Neither of them moved. He was still buried inside her and it was Inga's attempt to slide her leg out from under him that brought them to their senses. Chris lifted his hip and gently withdrew his doughy penis from her pussy. Then he lay down next to her, on the floor, and pillowed her head on his chest.

They still didn't say anything for a few seconds. It was hard to think of anything at a moment like this. But then, at last she spoke. "That chair wasn't a priceless antique, was it?"

His laugh was tiny and weak. "One of my old college roommates bought it our senior year. We just left it here because no one else wanted it. Comfortable, isn't it?"

"It was."

He sighed and snuggled close against her. His words came slowly. "I'll try to fix it. Be a tragedy to throw it away...knowing its power."

She laughed, and again they fell silent. Finally he said, "That was incredible. The word incredible doesn't cover it."

"No it doesn't."

He laughed again, and this time his voice was stronger. "All my friends, and all your friends, shacking up tonight, having silly safe sex with condoms under the covers, and we're having..."

"The fuck of a lifetime?"

"Yeahhhh," he said, and they both laughed.

Again they just lay there, and then Inga said, "What time is it?"

"One-thirty."

"I hate to say this, but I should be getting back to my room. You have to figure that some of your friends will be coming back here, and no doubt I'll have to hear the play-by-play of what happened tonight."

He sighed. "I guess you're right. I'm tempted to say the hell with everyone and let them find us this way, but that would spoil part of our fun."

She liked that he didn't want her to leave, but they agreed it was for the best. At least for now. Tomorrow...tomorrow Inga would tell everyone about her and Chris. She'd tell them that they'd been lovers all week...and that they'd tricked everyone! She wanted to see the expression on everyone's face when they found out that poor, lonely Inga had been fucking like a tigress in heat their whole vacation.

"I think I need to use your bathroom..." she said.

"I'll bet you do. I think I left a quart of come inside you."

"It felt like it," she said, and they kissed tenderly before she walked down the hall to tidy up. When she came back there were lights on in the living room, and Chris was cleaning the seat of the recliner. "Well, the legs are cracked through the middle."


"I guess it's partly my fault," she sighed. "I'm a big girl."

"That you are," he said, cupping her heavy breasts in her hands. "I was a bit out of control, wasn't I?"

"Maybe a bit."

"Wonder how I got that way?" And he put his hands on her hips and kissed her again, with enough heat that Inga suddenly wanted him again. She pressed herself against her groin and he groaned and said, "Wow...what you do to me, girl."

"I can do all sorts of things," she teased, and let her fingers dance across her belly. He gently slapped them away and laughed. "You think after everything that happened today you could get me revved up again?"

"I fucking guarantee it," she said, and fell to her knees before him, wanting him again, in her mouth. But he edged away and said, "Not now. You'd probably kill me. Unless that's your intention."

She sighed. "I thought younger men could go all night."

"I thought older women were all prim and proper."

She laughed out loud and snapped her teeth at his groin. "We're not all that way..."

"Especially the blonde ones with incredible breasts." His penis actually bobbled a bit, but Chris backed up and helped Inga to her feet. She sighed, "I guess I can wait a few hours, when you've gotten your strength back."

"When I've had 16 hours of sleep and eaten three steaks and a dozen eggs," he said. 

They got dressed and left the house holding hands. They held hands in the car on the brief drive back to the hotel, and Inga didn't want to let go. Neither did he-when he parked in the lot he kept the engine running, because to turn off the ignition he'd need to release her hand. He didn't. She liked that.

"That was the best ever," he said, his voice very serious. "The best I can imagine."

"Yes, it was," she said. 

"Not that I have THAT much experience," he said, "but..."

She giggled. "I do have that much experience. And that was the best sex of my life."

They sat there a few silent seconds, smiling at each other, and it was Inga who let of his hand and tickled his belly. She kissed him on the lips and said, "Go home. Get some sleep. Eat as much protein as you can. And think about how we're going to top what we did tonight."

He grinned from ear to ear. "I will." They kissed again, and Inga stepped out of the car and walked into the lobby with a confident, carefree stride. She entered her room quietly, not wanting anyone to hear how late she'd returned. She strained to listen for noises coming from the rooms on either side...but heard nothing. So either they were resting up, or they too were done for the night. The idea of taking a shower was incredibly appealing, so Inga stripped and soothed herself with the hot spray. She ran her fingers over her soapy body and remembered how Chris had done the same to her just a few days earlier. Her fingers invariably found their way between her legs and she fondled and fingered herself to one last orgasm. It didn't compare to the ones she had with Chris, but just thinking about him made her smile as the pleasure washed over her. She toweled off and slipped under the sheets with her hair still wet. And that smile on her face. 



Inga woke up at 9AM, her muscles pleasantly sore. Especially her legs-they felt like she'd jogged up a dozen flights of stairs. "Too much hot sex, much too much," she mockingly scolded herself as she staggered to the bathroom. Her long, golden hair was a mess from her having slept on it wet, so she took another shower and took her time getting ready. She put on a white T-shirt and shorts over her swimsuit and made a few quick phone calls. None of her friends were ready for breakfast or the beach. They all sounded sleepy and lazy, and Inga didn't press. Maybe some morning sex was in store for them. Maybe it was in store for her as well. She went down to the lobby, ate a bagel for breakfast, and hit the beach.

She though about going to the house to see Chris, but no, he might not be alone. And she figured he knew where to find her. She lay back in her chair and snuggled her toes in the sand. It was early but there were a quite a few people out already, and quite a few men looked her way (and kept on looking) as they walked past. "Sorry, fellas, my dance card is full," she thought to herself.

She splashed about in the surf for a few minutes before returning to her chair and her book. Her friends showed up around noon, trying to look like nothing had happened the night before, but the coy expression they all shared told her that something naughty and nice had happened the night before. "So, tell me all about it," she sighed, and for the next hour she listened to her giggling girlfriends describing lengths and girths and remarkable acts of agility and endurance. Put them all together, Inga smugly thought to herself, and they'd had about a tenth as hot a time as she had. 

Just as the girls finished their tales, the boys showed up. They spread their towels next to their nocturnal partners and there was some intimate yet mostly chaste touching and kissing. The women looked coy and sexy, the boys were attentive and lusty. It made for a nice scene.

Except that Chris wasn't there. Inga wanted to ask about him, but that would be out of character. But after five minutes she was so desperate to see him that she couldn't help herself. "What happened to your friend Chris?" she asked, quickly adding, "It was nice of him to give me a ride last night."

"Oh, he left about ten minutes ago," one of the boys said. "He's a writer and he has a project coming due, so he went home."

Inga kept her face still, she didn't lose control of the emotions this shock sent racing through her. He LEFT? He left without saying goodbye? Without telling her he was leaving? She couldn't believe it. After everything they'd shared the past few days...it didn't seem possible. Was she really just a random fuck to him? She couldn't believe it.

She'd never see him again. She put her sunglasses back on to keep the tears welling in her eyes from showing. She didn't even know his last name. She felt like she might throw up. No one would ever believe that they were lovers. If she told her friends every way she and Chris had coupled this week they wouldn't believe her. No one would believe her. After this she could hardly believe it herself.

Her friends and their boy toys tickled and teased it each other and it made her physically ill. She thought she'd be doing the same thing right now, she and Chris would let everyone in on their little secret and she could touch him in public and bask in the envying looks everyone threw her way because of her lover. And now he was gone, forever.

She decided to tell everyone she wasn't feeling well and head back to her hotel room so she could scream and cry and smash the furniture and do all the things the shrieking in her head commanded her to do. She'd already put her book in her bag when a shadow fell over the group. "The hell are you doing here?" one of the boys said with a confused expression on his face.

Inga turned, and there he was, in a light-blue Polo shirt and khaki shorts. Chris said, "Silly me, I got a few miles down the road and realized I forgot something."

Everyone waited for him to say what he forgot, but instead he reached down and took Inga's hand and helped her to her unsteady feet. He took her sunglasses off and tossed them on the chair, and then he took her in his arms and theatrically dipped her over his knee. Her smile was so wide that it almost hurt, but when he leaned in close to kiss her she closed her eyes and let herself revel in the moment. 

They kissed a long time, their tongues gently entwining, and it went on so long that one of the girls actually cleared her throat to get their attention. Chris broke the kiss and eased Inga back upright. He kept his arm tight around her waist, a good thing because she wasn't sure her legs would support her. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a card. "This has my phone number on it, and my cell, and my email address, and my address, and my next of kin. I think I left of my DNA with you the last few days that you don't need any more from me."

"The card should be enough," Inga said, excited as a schoolgirl, and Chris tucked it in her cool, white cleavage before giving her breast a gentle squeeze. "Sorry I have to leave, but it's probably a good thing. I need a few weeks to recover from what you've put me through the last few days." He kissed her again, another long, deep, soft kiss, and when they parted he looked into her eyes for a long time. "See you soon, baby" he said, running his hands from her back to her hips, and then cupping and squeezing her ass.

He turned around, gave the goggling crowd a jaunty wave, and said, "Bye!" before walked back toward the steps. The world was spinning around Inga so fast that she had to reach down and grab her chair to keep it from flying off into space. She sat down, coolly crossed her legs, and looked at the stunned faces staring at her. "What?" she said sweetly.

"What, what just happened?" one of her friends asked. "Did you...and him...you know?"

Inga sighed, pulled out a cigarette, and made a production of lighting it. "Well," she purred, "I guess if you have the time, I have a little story to tell you..."