Chapter 32: Chapter 32

After walking along the track and then along the beach near the designated coastal camping site, we decided to stop for lunch. We were both desperate to get away from our overbearing parents and our younger, bratty, babyish male siblings. We needed some girl time and to be able to talk about the men in our lives in a serious manner. Would we keep them or would we replace them with new hot bods from University?

It was a brand-new camping facility on the coast. It had been chosen by Dad. He mentioned something about there being heritage ruins nearby, but I was only interested in Denny being there because he was a friend of mine. We were senior college girls who were just starting to enjoy the beginning of the summer break after a slew of intense exams that had put our future on hold until the results were released in a month. That or parental disapproval of our squandered opportunities was going to be thrown in our faces as an early Christmas present. We were confident that we had done enough to pass.

Walking side by side on the soft, warm sand, we were doing the girly things that girls do when they are away from their boyfriends and other male figures in their lives. Basically, we were having a good time with each other in that soft flirty, touchy feely, wholesomely affectionate way that makes boyfriends have the wrong idea about what girls end up doing together. Some of the time we were holding hands. We were nudging into each other's hips, leaning into each other, and flicking back our free flowing hair, among other things. Sorry, guys, but there's nothing sapphic about this; it's just something that girls do together. He and she share personal space; real personal space; and they talk in an intimate manner, close enough to feel the warmth of each other's sweet breath on their faces.

We were eighteen-year-old girls who were serious about working out guys. Were they a good investment? Were they genuinely fond of us, or were they still immature pricks who were only interested in the pussy they could get easily and regularly enough at this point? They were only hanging around a well-known coochie in the hopes of sniffing and stuffing the butts they so desperately desired access to.

As we made our way along the shoreline, the water became rougher. As the tide was receding, there were knobby boulders in the sand to be seen. Our footing, on the other hand, was certain to be like our friendship.

Denny said something unexpectedly, as if he were hiding something from me. "Paul wants to starfish me," Denny said suddenly, as if he were hiding something from me.

When I was in the mood for immediate and quick sex with my current boyfriend, her mind was as open as my legs were to the idea.

"Of course, tell me about it. Andrew assumed that as soon as he got a finger working up there, his dick would be right behind him, and there was no condom on either the prick. Because I couldn't get pregnant up my arse, his excuse was that I shouldn't be too picky about it.

My eyes were drawn to Denny's eyes, which were bright with interest.

"Well, he didn't even get his dick up my arse that night," I continued, "because I told him it was tight and private up my arse and he better get used to the idea of his dick not being able to get into it."

I got a high-five from her. "Wow, good on you Jaz," she said as she walked away. "Paul needs to know he's not getting my butt." Not for the time being, at least. I believe it has something to do with what Simone told me. Do you remember what happened? She stated that it was painful and that she was sore as a result. I'm not sure what to say. Yeah, I do and I don't, but I'm not going to lie, I'm a jerk."

We laughed as we flicked each other's hair and shared in each other's mirth. We pressed our hips against each other. We were ambling along the beach and over smoother rocky outcrops, our thongs mostly off by this point, and occasionally pausing to dip our feet in the gentle shallow waves of the ebbing tide. Denny was wearing a pair of faded tight denim shorts, while I was wearing a short denim skirt. Denny was wearing a cute white bikini top, while I was wearing my red bikini top.

The tide was coming in and the mud crabs were beginning to emerge for their scuttle when Denny became overjoyed about something he had heard.

"Jaz," my bestie instructed, "take a look up there."

The ruins of some old buildings were visible, and there was a track leading up to them for easy access. Denny returned to our earlier conversation because the terrain was a little rough; as a result, we took our time and walked carefully, the tussocky dune grass pricking our bare ankles, and who knows why.

"Jaz, how would you like a finger up your buttocks?"

"Keep your cool, girl. I don't do that."

"Nonsense, Andrew's finger is up your arse, sweetheart."

"Oh, that's right, he only had to do it once," says the narrator. It was actually quite pleasant, no exaggeration. The fact that it was only one finger and he didn't go deep surprised me, but he was gentle nonetheless. Nonetheless, he angled his pecker almost immediately to nudge over my crack, which caused me to pull away, and he could tell I wasn't pleased."

"So it feels good, but you're a little concerned about a thick prick in your tight crack," Denny explained.

"Yeah, that's it. That's it." I believe a great deal of trust is required; it appears to be a very intimate act to me, and I want it to be remembered for more than just butt fucking to know what arse fucking is."

Denny appeared to be content with this, and we were already at the top of the slope.

"Jaz, it appears that these ruins are more substantial than we first thought. There are some interpretation boards over there, as you can see. "Let's take a look at this."

We both became aware that we were on the site of a former salt works, which was a national historic landmark. Parts of the exterior and interior walls of the building, which was built in the early nineteenth century from locally sourced stone, were still more than two metres high. Formerly practical and sturdy no-nonsense buildings, which have now decayed but have been partially stabilized by the National Parks Service, are visible. I would have known most of this if I had paid closer attention to my father's instructions before we left on our trip. That being said, it was your typical senior college girl outing; we prefer to see and do things rather than hear about them.

When we were growing up, salt was a necessary preservative, according to what we had read. On the site, however, there was little evidence of serious investment or human effort, save for a few walls, a couple of large sandstone doorways with well-worn entry stones, and a few obvious former window spaces that were still visible. By using plans and historical drawings, the interpretation boards helped visitors to understand the location of the abandoned outbuildings, which are now only visible to the naked eye as grass-edged sandstone mounds with rusted machinery strewn about.

"Wow, it's hard to believe there was once a small community here," Denny remarked. It includes a windmill, a salt house, workers quarters, salt reservoirs, and pumps that transport salt out to sea."

It appears that the former overseer's house is behind that hedge over there, but it has now been converted into a private residence," I explained.

We were the only ones in the area as we wandered through the shattered ruins. The stone space was warmed by the late-afternoon sunlight. Denny's well-applied sunscreen was glistening on her nape, which caught my attention. I was staring at the small of her back and the fine sun-bleached hair follicles on her chin and upper lip. I was looking down at the tight curve of her arse, which was hidden by her denim shorts. I told myself, "Get a hold of yourself, girl, it's Denny."

While I was closely following Denny through an internal doorway, she came to an abrupt halt, and my tits were squashed against her back. I was just thinking about how much I wanted to sexily touch his back. She turned quickly because the adjacent room was a jumble of rubble and was not intended for entry in the first place. We were accidentally crammed into each other in the stone door frame, which was supported by wooden posts that helped to keep the structure stable. Denny's body was pressing up against mine. Our breasts molded together as a result of a fortunate accident. Even though they appear scrunched, they are actually a sensual, smouldering smothering of their partners' barely separated softness. Our nipples were butting against each other's softer tissue. Our revealing bathing suits were not intended to suffocate even the most delicate of breast tissue. For me, the contact was absolutely stunning. I had an overwhelming desire to knead and kiss my friend's boobs right away.

My reaction was to spread Denny's white bikini top outwards, then downwards, revealing her attractive eye-catching boobs. Denny let out a surprised gasp, followed by a deeper near-pant as I took advantage of the opportunity. I immediately began fondling and licking both of these things without further ado. My brunette companion had come to a complete stop in a trance of delighted acceptance. There are no reservations. There's nothing to be concerned about. Instantaneously, she was completely immersed in the intense gratification that her breasts were so generously dispensing to her sensory organs.

She expressed a desire to kiss me, which we did in a raunchily and repeatedly. When I turned my head away, she pushed my head back to her plump nipples, which I nibbled and sucked in turn. She was moaning softly, but her hands were removing my red bikini top from my body. Denny was now motivated as well. We were kissing each other again, but this time our nipples were rubbing against each other's breasts instead. Our sensitive teat hardness discovered and was probing repeatedly into softness, with the amazing tingly sensation of nipple sweeping across nipple occurring every once in awhile. Additionally, her hand was attempting to pull back my free-flowing blonde locks away from my face. Denny was unstoppable, yet I was the one who started it all, wasn't it? I was completely absorbed in skin-to-skin contact at this point, much like my attractive girlfriend.

The ravenous slut had my panties peeled out from under my denim skirt, which she ate with her teeth. She pushed me down onto a flat area of flagstones that were smooth to the touch. I was on my hands and knees, and Denny was standing behind me, looking at me. Simply put, my skirt was partially rolled up by her, and my pussy and arse were made visible to my girlfriend's gaze, fingers, and tongue; nothing more, nothing less. My shaved lips and butthole are completely defenseless, and I have no private bodily secrets left to reveal.

Denny's fingers twirled around my genitals. Ooh, Mmm, Mmm, Ahh," I moaned, my voice rising in pitch.

After a few minutes, I could tell she had spit on her fingers, and I was surprised to find that her thumb was quickly digging into my clithood, which I found to be extremely exciting! She was edging her finger around my arsehole, then two, and then three. She was pushing my pucker hole open with her spreading pushing fingers as she opened my pucker hole. My friend was gaping at the back of my shins. Then she spit into my arsehole with a wad of spit in her hand. It was dripping wet and made me feel a little dizzy. Denny's spit was scorching hot, and she smeared generous dollops of it all over my rim and around my mouth. Further spitting into my sensitive constrictive crack, this time dirtily and deeply.

Fuck, she could have rimmed and prodded my arse with her fingers for hours on end, but all too soon, my own fingers were greedily undoing her denim button and fumbling with her zip as she walked away. My hands were frantically attempting to prise her tight shorts from her waist. Denny recognized my urgency and need, as well as her equal need, and she bowed her head away from me. Her shorts were a little too loose, so I had to take them off. My brunette friend posed in the same manner as I had just a moment before. Denny was also giving me a glimpse into her rear view mirror. Denny's private quarters were exclusively for me.

My, she had a peachy buttocks, and I kissed both of her rounded hemispheres, where her skimpy knickers didn't cover her fleshy cheeks, which were exposed by her skimpy knickers. There was nothing that could keep my attention away from her cleavage and the prospect of seeing her arsehole. Her shorts and black pantyhose were completely removed in a single swift movement. Denny's response, on the other hand, was equally simple: she simply turned over and spread her legs.

"Oh My God," I exclaimed, completely enthralled by the experience.

Nothing can prepare you for the shock of seeing someone's genitals. Denny had these adorable fulsome lips that were even fuller than mine, her pussy was shaped like a wishbone when it was open, and her clit was clearly visible at the top of her stunning personal treasure trove. My tongue slid right into her genital area. It appeared to be of high quality. It had a sweet flavor with just a hint of salt to it. More importantly, I was in Denny's at the time. My brunette companion was enthralled. Under my tongue, she was effusive and expressive as her clit took over as the dominant feature of her body. In a series of moaning "Orr, fuck, Orr's," Denny became lost in his thoughts.

Her aroused pink bead was being sucked up by my pursed lips, which were pursed in a gentle upward drawing sucking motion as my tongue darted around with forceful pressure. Her clit and my tongue became instant best friends because they were completely intimate. I got into a clit sucking frenzy and couldn't stop. I was burying my face between her writhing legs, which were about to suffocate me. Denny was reaching new heights of pleasure as the intensity increased. But I wanted her arsehole as well, so I forced her to get down on her hands and knees. She was a completely willing participant in my physical amusement. There are no restrictions. There is nothing to be denied. The bitch appeared to have everything, including a cute indenting delightful butthole, which I immediately began licking. Denny immediately resorted to joyful moaning, but he managed to say,

"Spit in my face, Jaz, spit in my arse," says Jaz.

Of course, I spat generously and filthily into my girlfriend's imposing, imposing, and privy crevice, which was both impressive and imposing. And then I licked her sweet gaping spit-filled hole with my tongue, putting it exactly where she wanted it. I ran my tongue all the way from her pussy, across her sensitive stretched perineum, and across her areshole; not once, not twice, but several times throughout the night. We were, however, required to have each other at the same time. There was no way out of this situation at this point. We needed to work as a team and rely on one another. On sixty-nine, we kissed, groped, and fondled our way into a side. There was no holding back. Everything has been provided. Taste and touch become increasingly sensual, leading to orgasms.

Denny had been nibbling on my pussy and was now fingering the back of my arsehole. My holy arsehole, which is off-limits. Denny had one finger in, then two fingers in, then three fingers in. It was a heavenly experience. I was completely hypnotized on a sexual level. I had a soft spot for my arse. Denny was one of my favorite people. She burrowed her way into my arse with filthy, smutty pleasure. And I took it all in stride, growing more accepting of its delicious rudeness with each passing day. My arse was in such good spirits. Pleasure extracted as naturally from my buttocks as salt is extracted from the sea.

I returned the favor to my brunette companion in equal measure. As I inserted my finger into her butthole, she made a slight quivering motion. Her arsehole is a tight, cute fit. But, as her excitement and pleasure pulsing increased, she soon became relaxed enough to take two of my desperate fingers in her grip. We were big fans of buttholes. As I gaped at her pinkness, I spit into her private bull's eye once more, spreading her butt crack even wider. However, her clit was far too attractive in the end. Denny is waiting for a nub of waiting flesh to intoxicate him with pleasure. The sound of repeatedly rapid'mmm's' of satisfaction came as I swept my tongue across her exposed mass of nerves in a fixated darting motion across her exposed mass of nerves.

If you're wondering how Denny mustered the energy to respond to my pussy's compliment, just know that she was a wonderful friend who made sure I had a good time in the ruins as well. In the case of a girl and her tongue, it's a girl and her tongue, which is vastly different from a guy and his tongue. She made certain that I reached a climax as well. Her use of her tongue was incredibly precise.

Only one thing I can recall saying was, "Don't stop." "Don't even think about stopping."

Then I descended into pleasure waves that obscured my ability to speak and obliterated any thoughts that I had in my head, with the exception of my body, which was focused on my clit.

A few minutes later, we found ourselves cuddling up together in the late afternoon sun. We were in a good mood and looking pretty in pink. Memory preservation is important.

We took our time getting dressed and exchanged a couple of tender kisses. It was at this point that we began our journey back down to the beach and back to the camping site. As a couple, we only gave the ruins a fleeting glance backward and forward.

"Jaz, that was so simple," Denny remarked, referring to the "sweet arse play." It was ridiculously simple. What drives us to follow our fingers, is it because we know there's nothing bigger than a cock to follow, or is it because we're sensitive girls? "We have faith in a girl."

We were walking on the hard sand where the tide was out when she and I both took off our thongs and walked in them. "I just wonder because I don't think Paul's getting my butt just yet, as good as it felt with you," he continued, "as good as it felt with you."

If they just got to know us really inside and intimately, as intimately as we are together, we might just let them in." I flicked back her hair, thinking about how small the hole was and how thick our guys' cocks were. "Perhaps," I said, flicking back her hair. "I am certain of it."

The tide was receding, revealing a sandbar in the water. Despite being soft, the sand felt firm under our feet. My own thoughts, on the other hand, were very erratic. The wind began to pick up speed. The air became thick with a salty mist all of a sudden. Suddenly, our hair was blown in our faces.

"You should know," Denny pointed out to me, "that your pussy has a slight salty taste to it."

"You too, sweetie," I said, pushing her gorgeous dark hair back, which was blowing around in the wind in vain.

I knew we'd be reminiscing about our time at the salt works for a long time to come. Ruins that have been abandoned for a long time and were once a hive of activity and memories. Despite the fact that everything is gone, the space was renewed by holding for the two of us; an incredible personal connection.

As we made our way back along the beach, we pushed into each other's hips on a regular basis. Who knows, maybe it's just a playful girly touch, or it could be something more.