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Vanessa's Island Ch. 01

By: Aussiescribbler



For five years I had lived on the island totally without human companionship. I saw no men but the old guy who ran the supply ship, and no women at all. And I was happy. An artist needs his solitude. In the hurley-burley that we choose to call society, the deeper voice of the soul cannot be heard.

Man alone with nature, that's the way it should be. Like Thoreau at Walden Pond, Hemingway battling it out with the marlin in the Gulf of Mexico, Amundsen eating his own huskeys to stay alive at the South Pole...

Yuck, maybe not that last one. But you get the idea.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm no woman-hater. Far from it. While I was living in the city, women were my obssession. And it wasn't just sex. I felt I needed the warmth of female companionship. Male bonding was all well and good, but without a woman nearby I felt a cold, black emptiness within me. Hell, once I even let an old bag lady share my loft, just for the company, but I had to throw her out when I found out she was stealing my art supplies and selling them to the guy next door.

When it comes to women, out of sight is out of mind, which is where I would have been if I'd stayed in the city.

On the island I found myself. The boy in me came alive again as I climbed the trees, trapped small, furry animals, and swam naked in the sea. I had regained paradise.

And then, along came Vanessa and fucked it all up.

Now I know what you are going to say. Compared to the curses with which so many of the people of the world are afflicted, Vanessa is not that bad. I know. I could have cancer, or be a quadraplegic, or a World Wrestling Federation fan. And you're right. But if I said, "Yippee, hooray for Vanessa, she's the sexiest girl a guy ever got to share his island paradise with," I'd be kicked out of the Ernest Hemingway Fan Club, and the story would have no dramatic tension, beginning as it would be, where it is supposed to end.

Now just because a guy is all alone on an island with no women, doesn't mean that he doesn't sometimes think about them, which is exactly what I was doing when Vanessa turned up out of the blue, as if God could read my mind.

There I was tanning my already nut-brown 45-year old carcass on the beach. Since I had no reason to believe that any other humans were in the vacinity I was sky-clad, barefoot all over, dressed as nature intended... Yeah, all right. I'll get to the point.


Now a guy who has spent five years free from the company of women, is likely, when his mind does turn to the subject of the fair sex, to get the most gynormous hard-on. Which indeed is what I was sporting when Vanessa's sexy voice first shattered the calm of my island paradise.

"That's a very nice flag-pole you've got there," said a voice that seemed to embrace me with its feminine warmth. "But I don't see any flag."

I immediately took the straw hat that was hiding my eyes from the sun and relocated it over my engorged member.

"Who the fuck are you?" I shrieked, being, in my hermit-like existense, somewhat rusty in the art of polite conversation.

"Well, there's no need to be rude," Vanessa corrected me. Now that my eyes had accustomed themselves to the bright light I could see that she was an attractive red head in a brightly coloured floral beach wrap. She was just pushing down her sunglasses so that she could look over them, and in spite of my rudeness, she was still smiling at me. I suppose women don't take a man's anger quite as seriously when he has no pants on.

"This is MY island!" I insisted, not to be easily placated by her, admittedly appealing, smile.

"I'm afraid not," she replied, trying to break it to me gently.

"Old Man Ramsey would never sell the island," I said.

"That's right," Vanessa agreed, "but Old Man Ramsey is dead. And his son is not so sentimental."

"And you bought it?" I asked, a sense of cold foreboding creeping over my heart.

"Yes," she said, "but don't worry. I'm happy to continue leasing the cottage to you. I only need the main house."

She could see from the scowl on my face that I was not happy with this turn of events.

"Don't worry," she tried to reassure me. "I'll leave you alone to do your paintings. I saw some of them at Old Man Ramsey's place and I'm a bit of a fan."

I just grunted and put my hat back over my face. Then I realised that this put my now flaccid cock back on display. Quickly I placed it back over my private parts, but not quickly enough.

"There's no need to be modest," said Vanessa with a wink. "He's quite cute when he's asleep.

"Look," I said, trying hard to maintain some kind of dignity, "you can't have bought this island just so that you could come here and annoy me. What are you doing here?"

"Well, David, to tell you the truth, we're both here for the same reason," she explained. "I'm a writer and I needed a place where I could get away from distractions to write my new novel."

"A rich novelist if you can afford to buy an island," I grumbled.

"I do all right," she replied, modestly. "Anyway, I came down here to the beach to have a swim. It's been nice talking with you, but now it's time to get wet."

With this she turned away from me, untied her beach wrap and let it drop to the sand. She was wearing a navy blue one-piece bathing suit. It was stretched tightly over a lovely curvy body. Her bum in particular was mouth-watering, the kind I always long to grab hold of and sink my face into.

In my unclothed state, the wisest thing might have been to beat a quick retreat, but nobody ever said I was wise, and I wanted to watch her swim.

I lay back with my hands behind my head and watched as she waded through the gentle waves and then plunged into the water. I was suprised at just how far she swam, until she seemed just a dot in the distance. Eventually, however, she returned to the shallow water, and, the serious part of her swim over, she splashed and wallowed and rolled in the water with the aimless but joyful manner of a child.

My reward came when she finally rose from the water and, reaccustoming herself to terrestrial gravity, staggered up the beach towards me. The water made her bathing costume cling to her body and it didn't take much imagination to picture what she would look like naked.

When she reached me, she sat down cross-legged in the sand. Her auburn hair was slicked back over her head, thus emphasizing her rosy-cheeked face with its warm smile and sparkling eyes. Now that she was so close, I could see the impressions of her nipples encased in the wet material. And between her wide-spread legs I got just the slightest hint of the sweet forest and moist valley that lay beneath that tiny scrap of dark blue cloth.

"At least your dick's a gentleman," said Vanessa, who didn't seem particularly perturbed by my blatant perving. "He knows how to tip his hat to a lady."

Looking down I realised that my once-again stiff prick had lifted the top of my hat and set it on an angle.

"A real lady wouldn't notice a thing like that," I huffed.

"A real lady wouldn't take it as a compliment, either," replied Vanessa, raising her left eyebrow. "But I'm not, and I do."

With that she stood up, picked up her beach wrap and sunglasses from the sand, and started up to the house. The way her glorious arse wobbled slightly beneath the wet material almost caused me to soil the inside of my beach hat.

Vanessa's Island Ch. 02



It was no good. I just couldn't get her out of my mind.

I was back on the other side of the island where I lived in a small cottage over-looking the beach. I had my easel set up on a slight rise that gave me a perfect view of the sea and the beach and the rich green vegetation that covered the island from the edge of the beach to its central rocky outcrop which rose to about 20 metres above sea-level behind me.

I was trying to paint, but it was no use. The large rocks that gave the beach its character, round and smooth from thousands of years of tidal erosion, became soft round buttocks. The clouds that hung in a deep blue sky became milky white breasts. And the bushes became...well, bushes.

Could an alcoholic concentrate on his work if he knew that there was an ice cold beer in the lunch-room refridgerator? I rest my case.

There was nothing for it but to pay Vanessa a visit. Maybe if I saw enough of her I would get bored and be able to return to my work. Desensitization therapy I think they call it.

Now if you really think I believed this crap that I was telling myself then you're a bigger fool than I think you thought that I thought that I was. I think.

No, visiting Vanessa was not going to return my shattered peace of mind, but it would probably give me a hard-on and I was willing to accept that as second best.

The island was not a large one, so it only took about 20 minutes of trudging through the hot, white sand to reach Vanessa's place.

From the beach a cobble-stone path curved up through an unkempt cactus garden to Vanessa's front yard. As I got close to her house I heard the sound of softly splashing water and realised that she had turned the fountain back on. This fountain, which had been silent since Old Man Ramsey had become too infirm to visit his island retreat, was in the form of a statue which seemed to depict a naked woman holding a vomiting fish.

As I approached the front door I noticed that the curtains on the front windows were not drawn, so I decided to have a peak.

All right, I know, I was being a peeping Tom, invading Vanessa's privacy. But hadn't she invaded my island. All's fair in love and war, they say. Which one Vanessa and I would end up engaging in I was none too sure of at the moment, but it had to be one or the other.

So I crept over to the window on my left, very aware of the fact that, when it is easy to see in, it is also easy to see out. No luck there, just the kitchen/dining area. Moving stealthily to the other window, however, I found that I was in luck.

This appeared to be a lounge room, but Vanessa had set it up as a room to do her writing. And there she was sitting at her computer, her back, thankfully, towards me.

What I found hard to believe was how she was dressed. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Before I noticed what she was wearing, I noticed the fact that her glorious bottom was totally bare.

She was sitting on a backless stool, over which she had draped a fluffy white bath towel. Her arse was even better than I thought it would be. So soft, so pink and with a light dusting of freckles over the top of her hips. I had to suck in my stomach to give my cock room to stretch himself. It was all I could do to resist the temptation to pull down my shorts and jack-off on the spot. But I realised that if Vanessa turned around she would see me.

It was now that I noticed what Vanessa was wearing. Above she wore a pink lace-up, Victorian-style bodice. The laces were threaded but not pulled tight, something which I imagine would have been impossible for one person on their own. Below this she was wearing a white garter-belt and white stockings.

This seemed a strange way for a woman to dress when she was on her own. For a moment I felt a jealous twinge as I wondered if she had brought a visitor to the island. But there was no sign of anyone else.

As I stood there staring at her lovely bottom and listening to the tapping of the keys of her computer, I noticed that occassionally she would stop typing and move her right hand down to her lap. Maybe she has to rest it occassionally so as not to get RSI, I thought. Surely she doesn't have to rest it that long, I wondered. Ha, ha, it almost looks like she's...No, she couldn't be...Shit, I think she is.

I moved in to get a better look at what she was doing with her hand, and my head and the window pane collided with a resounding thwack.

I caught a quick glimpse of Vanessa jumping up from her stool, as I ran and knocked at the front door, hoping I might still be able to salvage the situation.

When Vanessa opened the door she was wearing the towel around her waist. Above her pink bodice a rather large expanse of pale, freckled bosom was exposed, heaving deliciously in her current state of agitation.

"It's only me," I said, in the vain hope that, if I played it cool, she would think that the face in the window was a figment of her imagination.

"OF COURSE IT'S YOU. I KNOW IT'S YOU. THERE'S NO-BODY ELSE ON THE FUCKING ISLAND," she yelled. "BUT WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO COME PEEKING IN MY WINDOW."

Personally, I thought she was over-reacting. Maybe a change of subject would help to defuse the situation.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked, remember that a person's favourite subject is themself.

"MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!" she shrieked, thus dashing any thoughts I may have had to parlay my diplomatic skills into a job with the United Nations.

"I'm sorry I peeked in your window," I said, trying another tack. "I just caught a glimpse accidently as I was coming up to the door, and you looked so gorgeous that, even though I knew it was wrong, I couldn't help myself."

This time I'd hit on the right formula. The storm clouds disappeared from over Vanessa's face.

"All right, you can come in," she relented. "But I'm still going to be mad at you for another 5 minutes, because you deserve it. I ought to give you a good spanking, that's what I ought to do."

"Yes, please, Miss," I replied.

"Your an all-around deviant, aren't you?" she said shaking her head.

By the time my 5 minutes were up we were sharing a couple of cold beers at the kitchen table. Vanessa had changed in the meantime into a light yellow summer dress.

"Actually I wouldn't have really minded if I hadn't been writing at the time," Vanessa admitted. "I really get into the story when I'm writing and it's very frustrating to get interrupted."

"Yes, it really did look like you were getting into the story," I agreed, meaningfully.

"What do you mean?!" she asked heatedly, though I could tell from the smile on her face that she was more excited than angry now. "David. Tell me the truth. How long were you looking at me through the window?"

"Well, long enough to tell that you like to take a few breaks from your writing," I replied, trying to be tactful.

"All right, so sometimes a girl likes to play with herself," said Vanessa in mock irritation. "Any objections?"

"Well," I replied, "only that I couldn't get a very good view from where I was standing."

Vanessa can't have been very thirsty because she emptied the rest of her beer over my head.



Vanessa's Island Ch. 03



"I'm writing a novel set during the Victorian era," Vanessa explained as I dried off my face and hair with the towel that she had handed me. "Wearing the right clothes helps me to imagine my way into the story."

"So it's a fairly sexy sort of story, is it?" I surmised. "Not exactly your Oliver Twist, or David Copperfield, style of Victorian saga."

"Well, it's what we in the business term a bodice-ripper," Vanessa explained.

"Hence the bodice," I replied.

"Exactly, hence the bodice. But I must admit," she confided, "I have to exercise a certain amount of self-censorship when I write. My delicate lady readers prefer for me to gloss over the details somewhat. But when I'm writing a love scene I like to write my own version first, before modifying it for my public."

"Really?" I asked, showing a fellow artist's interest in the creative process. "Could you give me an example?"

Vanessa blushed. "I never let anyone see my raunchy versions. But....oh, what the hell, I'll read you a very small comparison. But this is in the strictest confidence. I don't want you blurting it around that Vanessa de Couteau writes porn in her spare time."

"Blurt it around?" I asked, in disbelief. "Who am I going to tell? The seagulls?"

"All right," she said, leaving the room for a moment and coming back with a pile of papers.

"Vanessa de Couteau. That's not your real name is it?" I asked, as she sat down at the table across from me.

"The Vanessa part is real," she replied. "But the rest is marketing."

She shuffled through her papers for a moment. "Ah, here's a good example. In the original I wrote, 'She licked her lips at the sight of his massive, purple-veined cock, standing stiffly erect, with the candle-light glistening off the trail of pre-cum that ran down its shaft and dripped onto her naked belly.'"

I couldn't believe that I was listening to her soft sexy voice speak these words or that her imagination had created them. Her manner was very proper as she read, like that of a student presenting her essay to the class, and this made it almost unbearably sexy when I watched her soft red lips form the word "cock".

My head was spinning and I was so turned on that I couldn't restrain myself from blurting out, "If you like looking at stiff cocks, you might like to see the one you've just given me."

"But, David," she said with a sweet smile. "You seem to be forgetting...I've already seen your stiff cock."

"Then you won't mind if I relieve the discomfort," I sighed, standing up and unzipping my jeans so that my painfully cramped prick could comfortably poke his head out of my underpants.

"Oh, dear," cried Vanessa, covering her eyes in mock modesty. "Still, it's my fault for teasing you, isn't it. Now I'll read you the public version of that passage. No, wait a moment, I'd better read the first one again first, so you can compare them directly, one after the other."

So she picked up the paper and read the passage again, but this time when she got to the word "cock" she looked pointedly at my own stiff prick, and licked her lips, and then with a wink went on reading the passage.

"Now in the finished version," she went on, "I changed that passage to: 'She blushed at the sight of his rampant manhood.' That's it. Which explains why my books take so long to write. The finished version is just the tip of the iceberg."

Then she put down the papers and return her attention to my prick.

"I think you'd better have a wank," she said. "That stiffy doesn't look like it's going to go away of its own accord."

Hardly able to believe my ears, I stood up, pulled down my underpants and grabbed my cock with my right hand.

"Not in the kitchen!" she laughed. "And not in front of a lady. Have you lost all the social graces living here on you own? The toilet's down the hall."

When I returned to the kitchen, having relieved my frustration and made myself decent, she smiled and said, "I bet that feels better. I really have been cruel to you. But I promise I won't tease you like that again. At least not today."

The one thing I can say about Vanessa is that she is as good as her word. She didn't tease me again that day. She left it until the day after.

It was then that the real teasing began. Later Vanessa admitted that she'd wanted to fuck me since that very first day when she caught me sunbathing at the beach, but she had a theory that if she had given herself to me at the first opportunity, I would have just thought that she was a slut, and would have lost interest in her. This I don't entirely agree with, but I have to admit that the reason she gave for teasing me so unmercifully during that first week that she was on the island was sound. They say that "Hunger is the best sauce" and Vanessa wanted me to be good and hungry by the time we got to the main meal. The same applied to herself, because when she was teasing me she had to restrain her own appetites as well. To what degree she did this she would later make clear.

It was on that next day that I first got to see Vanessa totally naked.

I had decided to pay her a visit at about 10 o,clock in the morning. I wasn't planning to try peeping at her. My talk with her in the kitchen had been even more exciting than the voyeurism that had led to it. I just wanted to talk to her again. Who knew where it might lead?

I followed the beach around the island until I reached the path to Vanessa's beach, which, being cut off at either end by small rocky cliffs, had to be approached in the middle of its expanse through a grove of palm trees.

As I came past the last of the trees I could see that Vanessa was standing on the beach with her back to me. She was dressed in the same brightly-coloured wrap she had been wearing when I first met her. Could it really have been only 3 short days ago? I decided not to call out to her. There would be plenty of time to let her know I was there. I preferred to let her get wet first. The thought of having a leisurely conversation with her while she sat on the sand next to me in her dripping bathers was an exciting one.

When she opened her wrap and let it drop to the sand at her feet I realise that that particular fantasy was not going to happen today. Vanessa was stark naked. Time seemed frozen as I stood and stared at her mouth-watering naked backside. On her shoulders and the top of her buttocks her pale skin was covered by a sprinkling of golden freckles.

There is something about a woman walking about completely nude and unashamed in the bright sunlight. Nudists always emphasize that there is nothing sexual about what they do, and for them this may be true, but I could never go to a nudist camp or nudist beach. The sight of an even moderately attractive woman doing everyday things outdoors totally nude, will always give me a hard-on quicker than some slutty teenager spreading herself open for a gynaecological exam.

But seeing Vanessa in the full nudist wardrobe gave me a hard-on so stiff I swear I could have lifted weights with it. The juicy way her bottom bounced as she started the, thankfully long, run down the beach to the sea was too much for me. Yanking down my shorts I grabbed my rock-hard prick and stroked it and stroked it and stoked it as I watched her run. By the time her feet first hit the water, I knew I was in heaven as I fell to my knees and spurted my seed a full two metres across the sand.

Once I had caught my breath, and with Vanessa lost from view on her long swim, I began to think about the full potential of the situation. Vanessa had to come out of the sea sometime, and since there was no way off the beach that wasn't close by, and since she had left her wrap here, all I had to do was wait and I would get to see more.

But better than that, there was no need to hide. She had caught me sunbathing nude on that first day. Now, if I happened to be passing and saw her skinny-dipping, there was nothing to stop me from chatting to her while she was nude, the same way she had to me.

Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. She embarrassed me on the first day and teased me yesterday, I thought, now I can have my revenge. I'll stand there like lord of the island while she skulks ashore with one arm over her boobs and a hand over her pussy.

It didn't turn out like that, but you probably guessed that already. Vanessa turned the tables on me. But, in my battles with Vanessa, I've found that defeat has a way of turning out to be much more fun than victory could ever be.

I put my shorts back on and sat down on the sand next to Vanessa's beach wrap.

Eventually I could see her swimming hard towards shore. My heart beat fast with anticipation.

When she reach the shallower water, she spotted me on the beach. Instead of indulging in her usual frollick in the gentle waves, she headed straight towards me.

"Hi, David," she yelled. "Lovely day isn't it?"

I was rather disconcerted by her untroubled manner. As she came ashore my disquiet and my arousal increased in equal measure. Why was she not embarrassed? Why was she making no attempt to hide her luscious, totally naked body? Something was wrong.

As she walked towards me, I drank in every detail of her body. Her full breasts swung freely. They were creamy white with a dusting of freckles, and her pale nipples stood up from the cold of the water that continued to drip from her skin. She had the slightest hint of a pot to her belly, something I've always found a turn on. Her solid hips swung easily and between her legs she had the most luxurient bush of red pubes I'd ever seen, somewhat lighter and brighter in colour than the hair on her head. Her body reminded me of all those fifties sex goddesses I used to lust after, back when women looked like women and not half-starved boys.

"I'm glad my naughtiness yesterday didn't keep you away," she said as she dropped down to the sand next to me. Her position with one leg under her and the other stretched out was, to put it mildly, very revealing. I couldn't help but stare. Amidst the tangle of wet pubes, I could see the pink of Vanessa's pussy lips perfectly clearly. Needless to say, my prick was once more hard as a rock.

But why wasn't she embarrassed. She wasn't acting any differently than she would have if she'd been fully clothed.

For a moment I even wondered if she was fully clothed. Maybe I had lost my mind, and was just imagining that she was naked.

"What's the matter, David?" she asked. "You look worried about something."

"Why aren't you wearing any bathers?" I asked.

"Well, I thought I'd take a leaf out of your book," she replied. "Why wear bathers if you don't have to? It always feels so good to be nude in the water. I wouldn't do it if there was anybody else around. But since there's only me and you on the island, and since you're an artist, who has probably seen more naked women than I've had hot dinners, why not?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, trying to play it cool. "To me a naked woman is no more exciting than a side of beef."

"Well, David," she said, shaking her head, "I hope you don't get a hard-on like that every time you go in a butcher shop."

This wasn't fair. I had clothes on and she didn't, but it was me who ended up being embarrassed. It's just not right. I'm sure there's something about that in the rules.

"Oh, all right," I grumbled. "The fact is that if you go around like that it's going to drive me stark raving bonkers." After a pause for thought, I said, "But don't get me wrong. I don't mind."

"Now, now, David," she replied. "There's no need for you to suffer. I tell you what. When I'm planning on going skinny-dipping, I'll give you a ring to warn you. And then you can just avoid this end of the island until I get my clothes back on."

"Now that's a good idea," I replied, with a straight face. 



Vanessa's Island Ch. 04



Vanessa's phone call woke me from a deep sleep.

"You'd better stay up your end of the island for the next half hour," she warned me. "I'm going for a swim."

"Thanks for the warning," I replied.

No sooner had I hung up the phone than I grabbed my binoculars, positioned on my bedside table for just such an emergency, and ran down the path to Vanessa's beach. I didn't bother to put any clothes on. After all Vanessa wouldn't be seeing me, or so I thought.

Fifteen minutes later I had taken up my position behind a convient tree, binoculars in one hand, cock in the other.

Vanessa must have settled for a short swim, because she was just exiting the water as I arrived. I let go of my dick just long enough to focus the binoculars, and then I feasted my eyes on a close-up view of Vanessa's jiggling boobs and dripping wet pussy-hair. As if she could tell that I was watching her she turned toward the sea and began doing a series of exercises that seemed specially designed to show off her cock-stiffening bum in all its glory. As she did her toe-touching exericises her pink-lipped hairy pussy appeared and disappeared between her soft-white bottom cheeks.

When she was through exercising, she turned towards me and did a big stretch. Suddenly, something caught her attention and to my dismay it appeared to be the tree behind which I was hiding.

"You can come out now, David," she called. "And don't tell me you're not decent. I know you're not decent, you little wanker."

"How did you know I was there," I asked as I emerged shame-facedly from behind the tree, hurling my binoculars non-chalantly into a nearby bush.

"With the sunlight shining off of your binoculars you were about as inconspicuous as a light-house," explained Vanessa. "But if you wanted to watch me why not be sociable and come down and say hello. That way you get a front row seat. And don't worry, playing with yourself is definitely allowed."

"Really?" I asked, unable to believe what I was hearing.

"Oh, yes," said Vanessa. "And if you're really friendly, you may get to play with me. I know all the best games."

Then she bent down and picked up a bottle of sunscreen that she had left lying in the sand next to the brightly coloured towel that she had spread on the sand.

"But if we are going to stay out in the sun any longer my tender skin needs a little protection," she informed me. "Care to do the honours."

"You bet!" I cried, grabbing the container out of her hands.

"Now, now," she cautioned, "don't get too excited. You will have to follow my precise instructions so that I get a good overall coverage. Knowing you, if I don't watch you, my arse and boobs will get full protection and the rest of me will fry."

"Always willing to follow orders, ma'am," I replied, with a salute.

"All right," she said, "let's sit down and get comfortable. First I want you to do my face."

Gently I applied the milky cream to Vanessa's face, enjoying the opportunity to loving stroke her forehead, her cheeks, her chin and her neck, all the time looking deeply into her sexy, gold-flecked green eyes. When I was finished, I tweaked her nose playfully.

"Now my arms," she said.

I squeezed some more cream onto my hands and slowly spread it over Vanessa's shoulders and down her arms. As I moved down towards her right wrist, I casually pushed it down, accidently on purpose making her fingers touch the tip of my stiff dick.

"Naughty boy," she laughed, "there'll be plenty of time to play later."

I rubbed the lotion into each of Vanessa's hands, relishing the opportunity to play with her slippery fingers.

"Back now," she ordered, laying down on her front.

Without hesitation I threw my leg over her and sat down with my hard prick lying along the crack of her bottom.

"Now don't you get any ideas back there," she warned as I rubbed the slippery liquid all over her back.

"Ideas?" I asked innocently. "What ideas?"

"Boobs next," she told me when I had finished her back. I got up and she rolled over.

By now I was finding the situation very frustrating. For my eyes and my hands it was a feast, but for my poor old dick it was a famine. As I straddled Vanessa from the front, I leant forward more than I really needed to just so that my aching cock would occassionally brush her belly or get tickled by her luxurient pubes.

I squirted more sunscreen into the palms of both hands and slowly lowered them onto Vanessa's ivory white breasts. I couldn't believe how soft they felt. Around and around I went stroking their slippery softness. Then I gently tweaked her nipples, squeezing and teasing them with my slippery fingers. This kind of naughtiness Vanessa didn't seem to mind.

"Mmmmmmmm," she sighed.

Then her tone changed.

"Hey, I didn't tell you to start on my tummy yet!" she said.

"Ummm, actually, that's not sunscreen," I replied, with some embarrassment, as Vanessa looked down and saw that I had shot my load over her belly.

"I thought it felt a bit warm for sunscreen," she said matter-of-factly. "Still, knowing him, it will only be a temporary setback."

Next I did Vanessa's legs, running my slippery hands over the insides of her thighs and working my way down to her toes.

It was while I was doing her bottom that my cock began to get stiff again. By now I was no longer trying to maintain any sense of propriety. After I had played with her boobs, Vanessa didn't seem to care if I followed the rules or not. I grabbed the sunscreen bottle and, pretending it was my dick, sqeezed it hard sending a spurt of cream all over Vanessa's bum and right up her back.

"All right, David" she asked, "was that the sunscreen or are you playing with yourself again."

"Don't worry, it's just the sunscreen," I reassured her.

I'd obviously used too much because no matter how long I sloshed my hands around her glorious backside, occassionally inserting a slippery finger into the crack between her soft white cheeks, the cream just wouldn't be absorbed by her skin.

Eventually I decided that it might be even more fun to use my dick and surrounding areas to rub in the cream, so I threw myself on top of Vanessa and rubbed my slippery, semi-erect prick all over her soft bottom cheeks.

"Hey, hey, hey," she protested. "Enough of that. There's one place you haven't done yet."

With that she turned over and grabbed my hand. Then she squeezed a generous quantity of sunscreen into it, and pushed it forceably between her legs.

"Are you sure the sun shines there?" I asked, as I felt two of my fingers slide deep inside her warm pussy.

"I want you to MAKE the sun shine there," she growled.

I had no complaints. My prick was rock hard again now as I alternatively fiddle with Vanessa's clitoris and slid my middle finger deep within her wet warmth. All the time she held my wrist, forcing me upon herself.

"If I let go of your hand," she asked, "do you promise not to take it away. Not to stop what you're doing."

"What would you do if I did?" I asked.

"I just might decide I like wearing clothes," she replied, threateningly.

"Cruel woman," I said.

Reassured she let go of my hand and, while I kept up my ministrations, she began to tease her slippery nipples. For a long time she was lost to the world. Long moans came from her wide-open mouth. Her eyes were closed.

Then with an almighty "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she collapsed onto the sand totally spent. Something about the way that her body went limp, announcing defeat in the wake of the wave upon wave of pleasure which had crashed over her, was incredibly arousing.

It wasn't all that long before she resurfaced, her face alight with an idiot grin.

"Wow!" she sighed. "That was fantastic. Thanks for helping."

"It's not like I had much choice about it," I teased her. "You were kind of forceful."

"Well," she said, "a girl has to stand up for her rights."

"What right were you standing up for just then," I queried.

"The right to pussy pleasure. A girl has a right to have her pussy pleasured at least once a day, and any man who happens to be around at the time should volunteer his services willingly to aid her in attaining this right," Vanessa explained with revolutionary zeal.

"Oh, I totally agreed," I replied seriously. "At least my dick does. See, he's standing up for you're rights as well. It's a show of solidarity."

"What a sweetie," she said, patting him on the head.

Then she looked up at me and said, "Well, I suppose I better do you now."

With a smile I grabbed her right hand and pulled it towards my stiff cock.

"No, I mean put the sunscreen on you, silly," she laughed.

When she saw my face drop, she laughed again.

"Don't worry, David," she reassured me. "I'm going to wank you off. But it's better to get the all over treatment."

And she was right. I lay down on the towel and Vanessa straddled my back and began rubbing the cream into my shoulders. I could feel her wet, wide-open pussy slurping around my lower spine. When she had done my buttocks and my legs she slapped me on the arse and told me to turn over. As she straddled my front I ran my eyes over her glistening nakedness and she rubbed her oily hands over my chest. Waves of sensual pleasure coursed through my body as her slippery fingers slid over my sensitive nipples.

Eventually I realised that the supreme moment had arrived. Vanessa crouched back on her haunches, her legs shamelessly spread, as she squirted more cream into the palm of her right hand. Then, slowly, tantalizingly, she moved it closer to my hard cock. A shiver ran through me as the coolness of the liquid touched the heat of my prick. Then I felt her soft fingers gently wrap themselves around my sensitive stiffness. My whole being was centred on that part of myself which was a prisoner of her sexy, slimy fingers. As she slid them, gently but firmly, up and down the shaft, I looked into her eyes and found she was smiling at me with a softly teasing tenderness.

"I think David likes it when Nessa plays with his dick," she whispered. "Now aren't you glad you came and said hello, instead of staying up in the trees and playing with yourself. Think of all the things you wouldn't have gotten to do..."

"Oh, God!" I cried as Vanessa's fingers achieved their goal.

"...Like squirt your messy cum all over Nessa's boobies," cried Vanessa, as my seed spurted all over over her creamy white bosom.

A flood of tenderness and gratitude welled up in me, and I grabbed Vanessa to me and kissed her on the lips. Her lips opened and our tongues played together for a while.

"Come on," she said, breaking away, "let's wash off all the mess."

Then grabbing my hand she dragged me out into the cool, refreshing water.