All Around Nurse

CHAPTER ONE I'm always daydreaming about broads and cunt too much. Like here I was, lying on the warm sands of the exclusive Hampton Beach Club, Phil Overton, twenty-three, real healthy and horny for a piece of ass. This was one of the real exclusive sections of Long Island's Southhampton area beaches. Even from 75 feet away, the lush, curvy loveliness of the bikini-clad blonde laying on her back in the sun, really was giving me a terrific hard-on. I could just see myself picking her up and being invited for a cool drink and maybe a piece of hot ass in the privacy of her cabana. With a gorgeous, sexy blonde cunt like this, I'd have that bikini off in no time and getting a fast close-up of those full, firm, crimson-nip pled breasts, and feeling the yielding roundness of her superb buttocks. She'd lay that classy ass on the cabana cot and my tongue would begin on those crimson n*****s. I would feel them harden and jut between my curling lips. She shivered expectantly as my hands caressed her smooth back, cupping and kneading her asscheeks. Her curved belly and marvelous thighs were grinding expectantly as I decked her. She felt my throbbing, king-sized prick against her inner thighs, and parted them. She quickly brought me to the velvety, warm welcome of her cuntlips. As I thrust into her hot t**t with a pile-driving intensity, her gleaming white buttocks kept pace with my c**k. Suddenly she moaned softly, her body stiffened and then shuddered violently, with her ass going into a wild, free-wheeling frenzy under me. As I felt her turn on and start to come bolts of hot sperm spurted through my prick as I joined her twitching cunt in a wow finish that practically brought the cabana down.... I couldn't believe my eyes as I crash-landed out of my playboy hump reverie. The blonde was looking straight at me, nodding and smiling. Then that lovely hussy got up and walked straight toward me. Was there something to mental telepathy? "Aren't you Phil Overton?" the blonde vision in the red mini-bikini smiled as my c**k practically wriggled in the sand. "Don't you remember me, Babbs Hymer?" she continued sweetly. And that was how Babbs and I met again after all those years. She insisted that we have a drink together and a powwow for old time's sake. I was all for it. One glance at Babbs t**s and ass in her abbreviated red bikini, and a man couldn't think of any word but yes. Her lavishly furnished apartment in the swanky Lido Towers had a magnificent view of the ocean. "Are you still a scotch baby, Phil?" she asked. I told her I sure was, so she disappeared into her chrome kitchenette, returning a few minutes later with an unopened jug, glasses and a pitcher of ice water. We perched on her deep, beige divan and proceeded to get joyously crocked while we brought each other up to date on what each of us had been doing since way back when. Babbs hadn't changed in the four years since I had last seen her. Except for a bit of the "mores" in all directions especially her t**s and ass. Her eyes still were that startling blue, with something intangible added. Experience, I suppose. Her body had filled out breathtakingly. Her breasts were large enough and firm enough to quiver when she swung them toward you, and her legs, two tawny classics of yellow gold, gave you the sensation that you just had to bite something, preferably her cunt. Her hair was blonde, worn shoulder-length, if you could work your way far enough up from her gorgeous ass to notice. But in that bikini it was kind of difficult. About all I could concentrate on was how nice it would be to start pulling strings and shoving my c**k in where it would do the most good. But there was, I reminded myself, a hitch to my delectable hard-on droolings. A time problem. I was supposed to meet my betrothed, Gretchen Hammond on the beach at exactly three o'clock-twenty minutes ago. And that redheaded t**t had a temper second to none. Except for her daddy, perhaps, who owned slightly over half the real estate here at Southhampton, and who was endeavoring to gain control of the rest as fast as possible. Not that this magnitude of wealth and opportunity almost within my grasp was all that daunted me. I worked for the mean old bastard, a state of being which presents its own complications. If Daddy, Conrad Phillmore Hammond, gets sore and fires you, it's not merely from Hammond Enterprises. He fires you clear out of town. The son-of-a-b***h blackballs you and bugs you relentlessly until you come to the realization that life in Southhampton is just not worth the effort. Yet, that's just normal procedure. For anyone hurting the pride or p***y of his darling daughter Gretchen, he naturally wouldn't be quite so easily appeased. He'd have you strung up; lynched, man. There was no doubt about it. He would be very much annoyed, maybe even to the point of having some goon cut off your balls. So I had to make a choice. I could remain happily here, starting to f**k it up with Babbs, or I could run to meet Gretchen before my poor overworked prick was completely cooked. Forcing myself to an attitude of common sense and reminding myself that pecker preservation is the first law of nature, I sorrowfully determined to get the hell out of the area of temptation. Then I had a sudden change of mind. It came when Babbs laughingly swung those golden limbs across my hard-on and taunted: "Phil! What's happened to you? You haven't so much as made a pass! And I thought we were going to have a good old-fashioned frigging reunion. Have I changed that much? You used to think I was beautiful. Don't you still feel that way?" "I most certainly do," I said, and I backed up my words with a quick hundred or so of kisses which caused her to squeal delightedly. "Phil, you tickle!" she cried. She broke loose and headed for the bedroom, with me at her heels, snatching at the strings of her bikini, my c**k standing straight up and twitching. Babbs always did have a real horny effect on me. She had, ever since the first time I had f****d her that afternoon years ago, when we were in high school and I had lugged her books home for her. As long as I live, I will never forget that day. For her, it was that momentous time in a girl's life when she rises in the morning with her virginity intact, and goes to bed at night with that little cherry gone forever. And all because sneaky old yours truly had deprived her of it by f*****g her silly to our mutual delight. It happened in this way. When we arrived at her home with her books tucked under my arm, she asked me if I would like to come in and have a coke. "Mother isn't home, or daddy either," she confided. 'They're both still at work." The way she offered that information bore exciting implications, to my tingling, stiff prick, so I admitted that I was thirsting for a coke, then I followed her into the house. That's when it started. The instant we were inside and had closed the door, Babbs put her arms up around my neck and said, "I want to thank you right now, first thing, just to be sure." She kissed me. Her mouth, at first contact, was a bit firm. But then she leaned back against the door, and I automatically leaned against her. That's when her lips softened, parted, and became sweetly wet and warm and my c**k practically burst out of my pants. When we broke apart, I asked her what all the thanks were for. Not that it really mattered. "For carrying my books, silly," she laughed. "Can you think of a better reason?" I admitted that I couldn't, and I immediately leaned forward for some more of the same reward. "The speller wasn't so bad," I told her, "but that history book weighed a ton. I didn't think I was going to make it all the way here without help." She giggled and dodged, teasingly. "Let's have a coke first," she said, heading for the kitchen. I wondered what she meant by "first" and I was in a tizzy to find out. I found out all right. About thirty minutes later. We had finished our cokes and were playing records and dancing. To watch Babbs' wonderful ass twist and squirm away from you in a solo is a sensation all by itself. It gives you that panting, hounddog, feeling from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, as your blood gets hotter and hotter, and your prick gets stiffer and stiffer. After, that, I got her on the sofa and she was something. Her mood changed abruptly from gayety to seriousness. So did mine. Mine already had, since that last wild sexy twirl she had made, her skirt swinging high and her thighs flashing just beautiful enough and temptingly enough to leave me a fiery itch in my balls. "Let's get back to those heavy books," I insisted. "I exhausted myself carrying them for you. I won't be the same for weeks." "Poor Phil," she said. She took my face between her soft palms and pulled me down. "I do owe you an awful lot, don't I? You were a knight in shining armor." "You can say that again." We kissed and clung, and as our temperatures mounted, it started to get pretty hectic for both my c**k and her cunt. Have you ever had the experience of tasting a sweetly-perfumed tongue-tip, darting around in your mouth? Kind of melting your brain? If you have, you'll know how the rest of the world whirled by! Then my hands proceeded to take over of their own accord, just as though they had little eager minds of their own. One of them slid inside her blouse. There was no bra to get in my way, just warm luscious tit with the wild throbbing of her heart, making my own heart beat faster. Her breasts were hard and firm, like, sweet apples, not yet fully packed. But they were fully sensitized; have no doubt about that. When my basketball toughened hands rubbed over their petal-soft tips, those n*****s punched forth like hot, dull needles, trying to sear my palm. Things got better and better with each dizzily passing moment. When I had her pushed back on the sofa with her blouse fully unbuttoned and was trying to decide which one of her delicious knockers to take the first growl and snap at, her little brother came bursting in. "What kind of a wrestling game is that?" he asked sarcastically. I sat up and breathed silent thanks for his dewy-eyed innocence. I told him I was on the high school wrestling team and that Babbs was helping me practice. "I have to get in shape for the big meet next month," I said. "Heck, that wasn't much of a leg hold," the little bastard derided. "A midget could get away from it." Babbs, still panting, rose wrathfully and shagged him out. "Go play marbles with somebody," she ordered. After he had gone, she locked the door. Then she went around locking all the other doors. I wondered if she were going to lock the windows, too. She didn't. She merely drew the Venetian blinds and returned to stand before me. We glanced at each other and we had to laugh. When she finally managed to stop giggling, she put a finger to her lips. "Let's see, where were we?" she snickered. "At the leg hold," I reminded her. "Where I was going to bite off your n****e if you tried to jerk your leg away. Remember?" "Oh. Of course!" Wherewith, she resumed the position she had been in when we were so rudely interrupted, and I soon was again nibbling at those delicate little tidbits. While I was savoring those Grade A n****e delights, she made no effort to break the hold I had on her firm, smooth thigh. Instead, she moaned, and I immediately recognized the sound as one of enormous contentment. Then she grew wilder, and her sharp little fingernails started to flex into and across my tingling scalp. Seething though I was, I was amazed to find myself moving along the torrid road of hump seduction with such ease of operation. Perhaps I was a born Don Juan, a prime example of irresistible masculinity, a lover whom no girl with a normal cunt could bring herself to refuse. Maybe I had just been too stupid up to now to be aware of this fascinating cunt-ability of mine.