The Nudists by Olivia Palmer
(gf, mast, exhib, feet, ws, voy)
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This story is a work of fiction and does not purport to depict any real people, places, or situations. It is entirely fantasy and should be treated as such. This story describes explicit sexual acts between living entities of various ages and sexual persuasions. If this type of content offends you or if you are not of legal age to view adult content, then do not read it.
Do not repost or redistribute without prior written permission of the author. One copy may be saved for private use, insofar as that use does not extend to personal or financial gain by use of the author's work without consent.
Copyright 2017 by Olivia Palmer, all rights reserved.
Please email the author with comments or questions (or story suggestions!): olivia.octavia.palmer@gmail.com
There was a house in our neighborhood where this crazy family lived. The Hodgsons. They had three kids. The boy, Johnny, was my age – just finished 5th grade, 11 years old – and I had to put up with his stupid face and dumb, brainless laughter and nose-picking and farting every day on the school bus and in class ever since kindergarten. Good God how I hated his scrawny, gap-toothed face! But he had two older sisters, and I was more than a little in love with them.
One sister was in middle school. Her name was Annabeth, and she was fresh out of 7th grade, barely 13 years old, short and plump with short curly brown hair. The other sister, Juliet, was in high school, a tall, lanky soon-to-be 12th grader who was almost 19 due to failing a couple grades in elementary school.
Their dad was an over-the-road truck driver and was rarely home. That meant Johnny ran wild with no role model around to keep him under control. Their mom was a nurse at the local hospital and worked 12 hour shifts 4 days a week. On her days off she stayed in her bedroom. Juliet kept the house while Annabeth mostly hid in her room, like her mother.
Of course, Johnny was a useless annoyance, if he ever remembered to come back around while it was still light outside. He usually hung out with a gang of other delinquent boys a couple miles down County Road at the convenience store, playing Pac-Man and smoking cigarettes the clerks would overcharge them for, since sneaking cigs to underage pricks like Johnny must certainly cost extra.
It was the summer between 5th and 6th grade for me, and I was already developing nicely. At least in some places. My hair was strawberry blonde, just a little curly, and fell about halfway down my back. I was the oldest kid in my family by a lot. My mom had her hands full with my eleven month-old brother and my infant twin sisters. Meanwhile, my dad was working overtime all the time at the hospital, head of the maintenance crew.
That's what happens when an "oops" gets followed by another two "oopses", I guess.
Daddy wanted me to help my mother out as much as I could, of course, but Mommy was always frazzled and irritable, kicking me out of her presence on most of those summer days by mid-morning, grumbling that I should just go play and enjoy my youth while I still had it. I think she really just didn't want me to see her crying. She did that a lot back then.
So that's how I helped her. I got out. I got away.
Daddy, of course, didn't know how useless I was. Mommy didn't let on, and I felt so guilty about it. I loved being set free and let loose to wander, the sun warm on my face, my bare feet traipsing across the lawns of our little neighborhood until I was, inevitably, knocking at the Hodgson's door.
My father knew Mrs. Hodgson from the hospital. Years ago they had carpooled there when their shifts had been the same. Now he only saw her occasionally in the cafeteria or in passing along one of the corridors.
"She's seen it all," was how he'd characterize her to me, shaking his head. "The kind of woman you can't sneak up on and will never surprise." I had no idea what he meant.
"You show her respect and stay out of her way, Marlie," he'd tell me. "She's not at all like your mother." But actually I look back now and think that maybe she was, at least in a small way.
I desperately wanted to go to the Hodgson's to play with Annabeth (really to admire her older sister), but it took forever to work up the courage to do anything about it.
Inside their home, the Hodgson's were nudists, a fact that Johnny had repeatedly blurted to our kindergarten class way back when, much to our teacher's constant mortification. Annabeth, of course, was only two grades ahead of me, so I rode the bus with her from kindergarten through fifth grade, constantly wondering if she really did, like her brother regularly bragged, walk around inside their house "totally buck-ass nekkid". She had always been chubby, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her, imagining Annabeth to be in a constant state of embarrassment at the exposure she had to endure at home.
By that time Annabeth had already gone up to middle school and I didn't ride the bus with her anymore. By the time my mother had given birth to the twins, well, I'd never really played with Annabeth much. Yet, suddenly, for reasons I can only attribute to some kind of sudden barely-pubescent fixation, I found myself obsessed with finding ways to go by her house, to steal glances from the street at their windows, hoping I'd see Annabeth in her abundant, fleshy glory somehow on display.
Thanks to some careful observation and nifty planning, that summer between 5th and 6th grade I finally did become friends with the chunky nudist girl down the street. I realized that Annabeth had the daily chore of collecting the mail, so I made sure to be walking or riding my bike past her house every day around lunchtime, when the mailman had just come, so that I could give a friendly wave to my future friend.
Annabeth always walked out from her house and back with a grim, rapid stride, as if the sun was too much for her. She wore the same flip flops and long Care Bears t-shirt every time. It was tight around her middle but hung loosely from there to her dimpled knees. I caught my breath to see how tightly drawn the fabric was against her fatty little breasts, the nipples and puffy areolae outlined in vivid relief beneath the thin cotton top.
She was obviously naked beneath that shirt!
After figuring I'd ridden by enough times already not to spook her, one day I stopped my bike at the mailbox just as Annabeth approached. She slowed when she saw me waiting at the end of her driveway, narrowing her eyes and setting her jaw, but then she trudged on toward me, her flip flops scuffing loudly on the concrete.
As she came near I asked her, "Can I play with you?"
I promised her I wouldn't act like an elementary kid if she'd let me come inside her house and play. I'd rehearsed the words so many times, and I nailed it!
"I just look up to you so much, you know?" I finished. I batted my lashes and smiled. Lowered my chin. Puffed out my flat, pounding chest.
My heart seemed to leap up into my throat as Annabeth stood there and examined me, as if really noticing me for the first time. She cocked her head and squinted a little, looking me straight in the eyes.
"You gotta get naked if you come in our house. That's the rule." Her eyes ran over my nearly-flat chest, then down to my crotch. I thought I was going to faint! "Can't come in unless you get naked."
"O- OK," was all I could stammer. I hadn't really thought about that.
I froze. Could I do it? Did I want to see her - and Juliet - that badly?
Annabeth didn't wait for me to figure it out. She turned and trudged back toward their front door. Scratched her butt as she held the mail in her other hand. There was a mosquito bite on the back of her left calf. Or maybe it was a mole? And her back was sweaty. Her shirt was sticking to her shoulder blades. She was wet.
I wondered, did she smell like sweat? Did her sweat taste like mine, like when I licked it off my own arm at night, after Daddy had turned the A/C off and the humidity had dropped upon us like hot death, and I was left to squirm on top of my sheets in my own loose t-shirt, too afraid to take it - or my daylong smelly panties - off. But I'd lick my arm and suck the salty skin and savor. And wonder.
Did all girls taste the same?
Did Annabeth taste like me, too?
The throb in my throat was nothing compared to the swollen, sensitive pounding that suddenly rocked my pussy, making me grind against my bicycle seat right there in the bright summer light and stare at Annabeth's round dimpled ass beneath that thin silly t-shirt as she slowly walked away.
Suddenly the thought of being naked with Annabeth seemed like the best idea ever. Absolutely Yeah.
So I did. I followed her in.
I pushed my bike down onto the grass of the front lawn and ran to catch up with her.
Kicking off my own flip flops at the door, right beside Annabeth's, I pushed my way inside, breathing deep and looking everywhere at once.
It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of their living room. The TV was on, blaring Price is Right, and Juliet was in the kitchen nearby, making sandwiches for lunch.
She was nude.
Her breasts were so unbelievably huge, round, and heavy. They swayed in a gentle rhythm as she spread the mayonnaise across the bread. Her hair was across her face, and I was certain she didn't know I was there.
Annabeth suddenly appeared at my side. Silently, she took my hand and led me through the living room, dropping the mail on the coffee table.
Juliet didn't look up from her work, asking, "You ready for your sammie, Annie-bee?"
Annabeth only said a quick "Not yet!" and took me down the hall in a flash of fat pale thighs. Next thing I knew, we were in her room.
"Now you gotta strip," she told me, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, like she was trapping me inside.
I had been more or less slung into the center of the small bedroom, which was adorned with the usual Shawn Cassidy and Farah Fawcett posters from that era. Annabeth's sheets were rumpled and half-detached from one end of her bed. Care Bears, like her t-shirt. She kept still, watching me with her back against the door, as if afraid I would bolt.
The thought did cross my mind. Suddenly I wasn't sure I was ready to get naked, after all.
"I'll go first," Annabeth muttered, obviously annoyed at my hesitation. I could tell she was already doubting I could hold up my end of the deal – that I could play more grown-up and not like a chicken little elementary school kid.
She whipped off her t-shirt with surprising ease, and my breath caught in my throat.
Annabeth was plump, ripe, luscious. Sexy. Her nipples were hard as stones. They seemed to pull her puffy breasts out away from the baby fat beneath them, each one the perfect size for my mouth. There sat a roll of fat above her pubic mound that seemed to hang with a perfect kind of lush, creamy softness. She was already very hairy in her crotch, and I could see her legs were unshaven and rather furry, too.
She, of course, was watching me watch her. She slowly raised an arm and stroked at her armpit, which also showed some light brown, long hairs.
"I like my hair," she said simply, continuing to stroke her pit. "You got any hair yet?"
I nodded and tried to find my voice. "A little, yeah."
"Lemme see it," Annabeth commanded.
As if under a spell, with a strange buzz of blood and fire in my ears and chest and crotch, I found myself fumbling with my own t-shirt, pulling it up over my head, exposing my braless breasts to my new friend. I was quite puffy myself already, but my areolae weren't nearly as mouth-watering as Annabeth's. My nipples, though, were every bit as hard and as long. They ached, and I couldn't help but rub my palms over them a little as I waited nervously for the inevitable.
I didn't have to wait long. Annabeth began to rub her own nipples and dropped her eyes to my crotch. "OK, now your shorts. And your panties!"
My knees nearly gave out, but I managed to lean over a little and slide my shorts and Underoos down in one quick swoop. I was mortified, suddenly, that Annabeth might make fun of my Wonder Woman panties. That worried me more than exposing my wispy-haired little pussy, and as I stepped out of them I made sure to flip them over so the shorts were on top, hiding my fangirl shame.
I went back to fingering my nipples with both hands and let Annabeth look me over, while she moved one hand down to her crotch and began to rub slowly at her bushy slit. She moved her other hand back and forth across her chest, pinching ferociously at her nipples and then rubbing them soothingly. We studied each other like that for a long time.
Then Juliet banged on the door. I squeaked in terror and dove for my t-shirt, holding it up against myself. I wondered if it would be rude if I ran and hid in Annabeth's closet. Yet my muscles froze. I was stuck. Terrified.
"Annie-bee, lunch is ready! Open up!" And so Annabeth did just that. She stepped back and opened the door wide, presenting me face-to-face with the long tall goddess that was her big sister.
Juliet blinked in surprise, then gathered herself and blushed, still holding out a plate with a sandwich and a pickle on it in one hand, and a glass of milk in the other.
"Well, hi," she smiled. "You're that pretty little thing from down the street, right? I guess I should make you a sandwich, too!"
"I- I'm Marlie," I said, still clutching my shirt against my chest. I was suddenly aware that my pussy wasn't covered at all, and I thought I was going to faint. Juliet was so beautiful. Her large breasts jutted out over a thin frame and narrow hips. She had a gap between her upper thighs that I swear my whole head could fit between. Her pussy was utterly bald, shaved clean, and her outer lips were fat and full, almost jutting out from her pubic mound like someone had been sucking on them for hours.
And she was wet. Glistening. Shining. So very moist.
Since I was very young I had always been intensely attracted to other girls. I would find ways throughout my childhood to be naked around my mother and to be around her whenever she was changing or bathing. As I grew older and was expected to behave more modestly, I turned my attention to the girls at my school, daydreaming constantly about what they must look like naked. I learned early how good it felt to fumble around on my clit, until I finally figured out how to pull the hood up hard and strum myself properly. I humped my pillow in my Wonder Woman Underoos almost nightly, finishing with the strumming, dreaming about Linda Carter kissing me and pulling down her glorious top, offering me her magnificent, perfect breasts to suckle.
And now here was a real live superhuman girl, Juliet, smiling right at me!
"Well, nice to meet you, Marlie." Juliet was saying. "I guess you're getting used to the house rules, huh?"
I nodded, too terrified to speak again and make a fool of myself. Juliet handed the plate and glass to her sister and turned around, heading back to the kitchen.
"I'll be back in a jiff with something for you, too!" she called out over her shoulder. "I hope you like ham and cheese! Is mayo and mustard OK on it?"
"Yes!" I managed to croak out, and then I found myself being pulled by Annabeth to the far corner of her room.
There was a large corduroy beanbag, brown and soft, and I let the older girl more or less gently shove me down into it. She sat on the floor in front of me, between my feet. I knew this gave her an excellent view between my legs, and I didn't mind. I could see between hers, too. She was sitting cross-legged, already eating her sandwich, staring without shame at my pussy.
And I was wet. So wet. And wide wide wide open.
I found myself idly playing with nipples again, watching her watch me, until Juliet came back in with my lunch. I thanked her and she left quickly, but not before I stole an intense, appreciative stare at her small, round, perfect backside. She was built like an Olympic swimmer.
I wanted to masturbate all the way - right then, right there.
I think Annabeth could tell. She grunted as her sister closed the door. Shifted her weight and fiddled with her own pussy a little. I could see her doing it out of the corner of my eye as I watched the door close behind her sister's perfect, unattainable, naked body.
For a long time we ate silently, staring at each other openly.
Then Annabeth finally set our empty plates and glasses aside and asked me if I wanted to play Space Invaders.
We went out to the living room and sat on the couch, quickly becoming absorbed in an afternoon of playing Atari and sitting hip-to-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder, finding any and every way possible to press our flesh together next to one another on the edge of that couch.
We were both sweating and sticking together by the time we were done, and I loved it.
Juliet had cleaned up in the kitchen and then left down the hall, going back beyond Annabeth's room to her own. Soon we could hear Led Zeppelin blasting through the walls from her stereo. Later on it was Pink Floyd. Then Heart. I could hear her faintly laughing and talking. She spent a lot of time on the phone.
"Let's go back to my room, OK?" Annabeth finally said, pulling me up off the couch. She held my hand all the way to her bedroom. Our palms were hot and wet. Our fingers slid together and locked like bony snakes in some sort of thrilling death grip. She was still holding onto me after she closed the door. And I still held onto her.
Then she kissed me.
Annabeth stepped close and pressed her full front against mine. We stood nearly the same height despite our age difference – I was tall, she was short – and our nipples brushed electrically back and forth against one another. I felt her mouth open and her tongue against my lips, and I knew what to do. It was what I dreamed of doing.
French kissing another girl!
We made out, standing pressed together like that, our torsos - slippery with a light sheen of sweat - slowly rubbing side-to-side, my nipples on fire, my pussy in agony, for a long, sweet time.
Then Juliet was knocking on the door again, telling me it was probably time for me to go home, before my parents would worry.
"Marlie?" she called out. "You awake in there? You girls decent, or what?!"
I hated to do it, but I had to pull away from Annabeth. Her sister was right. My mom had no idea where I was, and it was almost 5. My dad would kill me if he came home and I wasn't there (acting like I was) helping out mom!
We peeled our sticky selves apart, and finally we dropped hands.
"Thank you for wanting to play with me," Annabeth said, acting self-conscious and shy for the first time all day. She was looking down at my naked crotch, then at my thighs, my knees, my feet. She didn't look up into my eyes at all.
"I think you're nice," she mumbled, "and very pretty."
"Me too," was all I could manage at first.
Then, "You too!"
Then, "Thanks."
I quickly got dressed and ran out to my bike.
I beat my dad home by four minutes.
He came into the kitchen while I was in the bathroom, furiously rubbing my slippery, needy pussy. Mommy was asleep on the couch with my eleven month-old brother babbling away at himself in the playpen. The twins were bawling at the back of the house in their cribs.
I didn't care.
While Daddy knocked on the door and asked me to come out and help, I sat naked on the toilet with my eyes squeezed shut, feeling every second of that kiss again, every sticky, sweaty moment of my skin pressed up against Annabeth's.
My heels bounced painfully against the tile floor as I rode multiple waves of pleasure, running my tongue over my own lips, replaying it all again. I pinched my nipples hard like I'd seen Annabeth do.
Then I stroked them.
Oh God.
OH GOD!!!
I peed everywhere, unexpectedly, and just as unexpectedly I laughed when I realized what I'd done.
Daddy was long gone as I finally came back to myself and pulled clothes back on. When I re-emerged he was in the nursery, singing softly to my sisters, and my mom was, as usual, weeping quietly to herself on the couch.
I was back the next day, again naked in Annabeth's bedroom, again thanking Juliet for my perfect little sandwich.
I was again settled upon the beanbag, legs lewdly spread wide as I began to eat my lunch.
As Juliet left us alone, closing the door behind her, Annabeth said in a lazy kind of voice, "My sister's a whore, you know."
I didn't know what to say.
"She fucks every boy she dates," Annabethe shrugged, focused on my seeping pussy and seeming not to even pay attention to what she was saying. "Does it just so they'll take her places and buy her shit."
I sat dumbly and ate my delicious sandwich. Juliet didn't look like a slut. Didn't sluts have diseases and pussies that hung down between their knees? Weren't their teeth crooked and their boobies saggy and wrinkled and all used up?
"R-really?" I managed to stammer.
Annabeth was done with her lunch already and finishing off her milk, but she grunted and waved her free hand around vaguely.
I ate some more while she swallowed and collected her thoughts. Some milk had escaped the edge of the glass and her mouth, dripping down over her chin and onto one of her puffy, rock-nippled little breasts. I couldn't help but stare as the thin white drizzle slowly worked its way down into a fold of stomach fat.
I wanted to lick it out of there so badly!
"Yeah, but she'll do it with other girls, too. Like for free and shit. Like for fun," Annabeth muttered. "So she ain't all that bad. For a sister."
I could only sit and stare at the milk. Running into the fold. What else could a girl do, not even in 6th grade, not even with all her pubes yet, not even with real titties yet? What could I even say?
So I just sat there and stared and wondered about it all.
And got so wet.
"With her girlfriends," Annabeth said, raising a finger in the air and pointing vaguely at nowhere in particular, "she fucks 'em here. On sleepovers and shit. They lay out by the pool naked all Saturday and then drink Momma's liquor and Daddy's beer half the night."
All I could do was nod and try to chew the bite in my mouth. I didn't know if I believed her, but I sure was getting all kinds of hot and squishy down low. I began to wonder if she'd get mad if her beanbag ended up stained and smelly. I probably would if it were mine.
But I'd still sniff it. And lick it. Probably a lot.
"Then when everybody else is good and asleep – so they think, right? – that's when she gets out that bong from under her bed that she don't know I know about," Annabeth went on, "and after that's when they get to the kissin' and lickin' and all the good stuff."
Annabeth picked her nose, looked at the slime on the end of her finger, and ate it. Stared at me while she swallowed. The hottest, most electric thrill ran right down to my seeping, needy puss.
"And I watch sometimes," she went on, "you know, from in there." She jabbed a finger at her closet. "I mean in Juliet's, you know, if I can time it right."
Annabeth paused to pull at her curly brown hair, which encircled her head a bit like an afro, perhaps a bit longer in the back. She gathered it up and bunched it atop her head with both hands, showing off her lightly hairy armpits, which I delighted to see. The sight of them sent more thrills straight through me, making my pussy throb. I wanted to kiss her armpits desperately, to lick that hair and taste her sweat.
"I gotta get in there, you know, late – while they make that last beer run to the kitchen or however I can manage it," she explained. "Sometimes they take a bath together, and that gives me tons of time to get in and get all settled."
Annabeth let her hair back down and made a slow karate-chop with one arm. "And it's nice, even if I have to wait," she muttered, and for the first time, for real, I thought I saw some color rise to her cheeks and got a sense that Annabeth might actually be a little embarrassed.
"I like how warm it is in there," she confided, blinking rapidly and no longer looking at me. She closed her eyes, instead, and ran her hands lightly back over her pudgy chest, her palms making lazy circles over her nipples.
"And her clothes hamper and stuff, you know," she whispered, "her flip flops and tennis shoes, too. Smells good to me while I'm waitin'.
She ran both hands down over her crotch. I could smell the warm yeasty melt of her pussy. It wafted over me in wave after wave of sweet hot musk. Girl-sweat, cunt-drizzle, milk-sour folds of chubby skin – all combining to cast a spell I could not break, could not fight.
I set my plate aside, finished my milk, and put my hand between my legs. Annabeth kept playing with herself down there, too, with her other hand back to her nipples.
"Sometimes I fall asleep waitin'," Annabeth muttered, "but the best is when I can stay awake. Then I can, you know, play with her smelly panties and, you know...."
She leaned over on one elbow and really went to work on her pussy. I could hear it squishing beneath her fingers. Her nipples were swollen and almost red. Her mouth hung open as she concentrated on finding the right angle and rhythm for her display. Her eyes closed again.
"Sometimes I even sleep in there all night," she panted. "Then I get to watch 'em lickin' and kissin' all over again next mornin'. Even seen 'em have a accident or two on each other and piddle when they get to shakin' so much. You know how girls piddle when they feel good sometimes, right?"
I did know! That was what had just happened to me the day before, of course. Being able to hear it made normal by the masturbating object of my obsession all but spun my head completely around. I felt like I was floating free. Like I could do anything. I was swollen and seeping freely. My pussy throbbed beneath my fluttery, nervous fingers. Begging me for more. For harder. For faster.
I watched Annabeth as she kept working her pussy to a steady, slippery beat. The her eyes popped wide open and she studied me right back. My heart pounded harder than ever. I wondered if I could kiss her again. I wondered if she would kiss me other places, too? If she would mind if I kissed back, anywhere, everywhere, and maybe used my tongue. My fingers. Anything!
"Do you piddle when you feel good?" Annabeth asked, curious and serious and now pink from head to toe with her own increasingly good feelings.
I nodded, blushing, and slid my fingers against myself even harder..
"I do too!" Annabeth declared, clearly thrilled.
She rolled onto her back and scooted her butt around until her feet were up on the beanbag on either side of me, her knees lolled out wide to either side. She pulled her fat pussy lips apart with both hands, showing the pink, sloshy mouth of her vagina.
"We gonna' feel good together?" Annabeth whispered up at me, her eyes now closed, a smile on her face as she enjoyed the same warm wonderful sensations that I was working toward in earnest now, too.
"We gonna' piddle together, maybe?"
That did it for me. I wanted that more than anything! I put both my hands on my pussy, too, pulling myself open with one while I slid my fingers up and down over my slippery nubbin with the other.
It was clear that Annabeth's vagina was open and available, that she'd long ago busted herself open – or someone else had done it for her. She stuffed three fat fingers into her hole easily and worked them in deep. The wet, sucking sounds were nearly too much for me.
I could smell myself, and I could smell her.
Before I knew it, I was coming.
It was my first mature, full orgasm. It was ten times better, even, than the one I'd had just the day before. I jerked and squeaked, my legs thrashed. I went stiff and my eyes rolled way back in my head.
And again I peed. And peed and peed!
My hands couldn't stop, and neither could my piss. It rained all over Annabeth as she lay there squirming on the carpet. As my hot urine sprayed her she came too, groaning and jamming her fingers deep inside herself, arching her back. Her own pee shot out in jet after jet, splattering my feet and legs and belly, soaking the whole lower half of her beanbag, and generally matching me ounce for hot, smelly ounce. The whole time she grunted, "Ugh! Ugh! UGH!" as she dug her heels into the beanbag on either side of my hips and raised her pink butt off the carpet while her hand flew over her fat, pissing mons.
Finally, breathlessly, we were done. Exhausted and shaky, we both just lay there for a while, listening to each other breathe. I was still rubbing myself a little. When I finally looked over at Annabeth she was already looking at me. She was still rubbing herself a little, too. She was soaked. Her hair was dripping.
From my pee! I felt so powerful and happy in the weirdest way. So proud of myself. And so wild.
"Damn, girls," came Juliet's voice from the doorway.
I looked up in a semi-startled daze, still too spent and amazed to feel shame or surprise or much of anything. Just a minor shock at the sudden new noise. My whole body was broken out in a sweat. My head, I swear, was about to spin right off. And there was Juliet, with a hand absently working on her pussy, the other on a breast. She was grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, Annie-bee," she laughed. "I guess you finally found a girlfriend!"
Annabeth, my piss still streaming down her sides and soaking into the carpet, lay there idly stroking her mound with one hand and covering her eyes with her other arm, thrown over her face. She was panting hard, still trembling.
The sudden sight of her hairy armpit, obviously slick with sweat – and maybe my pee – began to make me stir down low all over again. Still feeling powerful, wild, and free – not caring one bit whether Juliet was standing right next to me or not – I reached out and grasped Annabeth's foot, which still lay beside me on the beanbag. Then I leaned over and kissed it.
Don't know why I did, but I did. And I liked it! She smelled sour and sweaty and sweet, and my pussy was flooding again. My head was spinning harder than ever. My mouth watered.
I kissed her foot over and over, running my tongue between her toes. Tasting her funky feet. Licking up the fine grit. Swallowing her foot's mess flavors as fast as my tongue could scrape them up.
And I loved it. I could even taste my splattered pee, so salty and weird, but that just made it even better!
I groaned and kept going.
Annabeth groaned too.
Juliet tilted her head and gushed, "Awww! How sweet." She backed up and began to re-close the door. "I'll just go run the bath while you two catch your breath, OK? You can come on in after a minute. I'll even put in the bubbles!"
With mouth mouth still on her foot, her leg in the air, Annabeth couldn't do much more than grunt and lay back and enjoy my new obsession. Seemed like it was a first for her, too. Soon she was rubbing herself and squirming again, rising to another nice come.
And then she farted.
I was busy about to come again myself, one hand back down between my legs, working away. And then...
"Ppfffffffffttttttttt!!!"
And Annabeth came.
And so did I.
Hope you liked it!
Please email the author with comments or questions (or story suggestions!): olivia.octavia.palmer@gmail.com
Copyright 2017 by Olivia Palmer, all rights reserved. Do not repost or redistribute without prior written permission of the author. One copy may be saved for private use, insofar as that use does not extend to personal or financial gain by use of the author's work without consent.